Israel  Pest, 

or  <fc  Stati 
88  Bowery,  N.  I 


NEW    WORKS 

PUBLISHED   BY 

CAREY  &  HART,  PHILADELPHIA. 


THE 

RURAL   LIFE   OF   ENGLAND. 

BY  WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  VISITS  TO  REMARKABLE  PLACES." 

FROM  THE  SECOND  LONDON  EDITION. 

In  one  vol.  8vo. 

Beautifully  printed  on  superfine  paper,  with  a  finely  engraved  Frontispiece. 

Life  of  the  Aristocracy.— Pre-eminence  of  England  as  a  place  of  Country 
residence. — The  delightfulness  of  its  country  residences — with  its  Parks, 
Lawns,  Woods  and  Gardens. — Pursuits  and  Pleasures  afforded  by  Country 
Life  to  Ladies.— Routine  of  Country  Sports.— Scientific  Farming;  its  state, 
implements,  and  admirers. — Planting;  its  pleasures. — Gardens;  pleasures  of 
them. — The  Roman  Style  of  Gardens.— Gardens  of  Hampton  Court.— Coun- 
try Excitements. 

Life  of  the  Agricultural  Population.— The  English  Farmer ;  his  Character 
and  Mode  of  Life.— Enviable  Aspect  of  the  Farmer's  Abode.— The  Intellec- 
tual Grade  of  the  Farmer.— Farm  Servants  and  their  Modes  of  Life.— The 
Plodding  Farmer  and  his  Wife.— The  Bondage  System  of  the  North  of 
England. — Bondage  Farms  and  Farm  Yards. — Midsummer  in  the  Fields. — 
True  Wisdom  of  Izaak  Walton.— Delicious  Haunts  of  the  Angler  at  this 
Season. — Summer  Birds. 

Picturesque  and  Moral  Features  of  the  Country.— Gipsies ;  their  History 
and  Present  State.— Gipsy  Adventure  of  Sir  Roger  de  Cover  ley  .—Gipsy 
Sketches,  by  Wordsworth,  Cowper,  Crabbe,  and  others. — Mrs.  Sou  they 's 
Account  of  the  New  Forest  Gipsies. — Nooks  of  the  World,  or  a  Peep  into  the 
Back  Settlements  of  England.— Beauty  and  Repose  of  such  Places  to  the 
Eye.— Sketch  of  a  Country  Proprietor  and  his  Family. — Dinner  Scene  at  the 
Squire's. — Life  in  the  Dales  of  Yorkshire  and  Lancashire. — Primitive  Sim- 
plicity of  the  People.— Formerly  much  visited  by  George  Fox.— A  Friends' 
Meeting. — Rural  Occupation  and  Vehicles. — Knitting  Parties. — Old  English 
Houses. — A  Delightful  Record  of  such  Houses  might  be  Written. — Harrt- 
wicke  Flail.— Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  imprisoned  there.— Annesley  Hall  and 
Hucknell.— Abode  of  Mary  Chaworth.— Fine  Old  Terrace.— Newstead  Ab- 
bey.—Picturesque  approach  to  it.— Characteristics  of  Park  Scenery. 

Love  of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful.— Developement  of  the  Love  of  Coun- 
try greater  in  English  than  Continental  Literature.— The  Influence  of  the 
Writings  of  John  Wilson  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

The  Forests  of  England. — Our  Forests  among  our  most  Interesting  Ob- 
jects.—Scenery  of  England  in  the  Feudal  Ages.— Antiquity  of  our  Fo- 

A 


rests.— New  Forest.— Picturesque  Style  of  the  Cottages  and  Small  Enclo- 
sures in  its  neighbourhood. — Gilpin  Parsonage  and  School.— Sherwood  Fo 
rest— Celebrated  as  the  Scene  of  Robin  Hood's  Exploits— Present  extent 
of  the  Forest. — Forest  Enclosures. — Wild  English  Cattle. — The  Author's 
Visit  to  Chillingham  Park. 

Habits,  Amusements,  and  Condition  of  the  People. — Cottage  Life. — A  High- 
land Hut. — The  Beauty  of  English  Cottages  in  some  parts  of  England.— Popu- 
lar Festivals  and  Festivities.— May-Day  Festivities.— Formerly  celebrated 
with  more  Gaiety  than  any  others. — Easter  Festivities.— Easter  at  Moscow, 
Jerusalem,  Rome,  and  other  places. — Whitsuntide  Festivities.— Sole  Reli- 
gious Festival  that  continues  a  Popular  One.— This  Partly  Owing  to  Friend- 
ly Societies. — Joyous  Aspect  of  this  Village  Fete. — Christmas  Festivities  — 
The  Festival  of  the  Fireside. — Christmas  Visiting  and  Country  Games. — 
Christmas  Customs  still  kept  up.— The  Fairy  Superstitions.— The  Village 
Inn. — Its  old  Tree. — Popular  Places  of  Resort. — Wakes,  Statutes  and  Fairs. — 
The  Rural  Watering  Place. — Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People. — Wrest- 
ling.—Favourite  Pursuit  of  English  Cottagers  and  Workmen.— Pigeon  Fan- 
ciers.— Lovers  of  Music.— Singing. — Sunday  in  the  Country — Trip  to  Rich- 
mond by  the  Steamer.— Social  Pleasures  of  Sunday  Evening.— Millions  who 
Enjoy  the  Blessings  of  a  Day  of  Rest.— Holy  Influence  of  Sunday.— Evening 
Walk. — Cheap  Pleasures  of  Country  Life. — Splendid  Picture  presented  by 
Nature.— Lingering  Customs.— Rapid  Disappearance  of  Old  English  Cus- 
toms.— Education  of  the  Rural  Population. — Schools  of  Industry  established 
by  the  Earl  of  Lovelace  and  Lady  Noel  Byron,  &c.,  &c.,  &.c. 

"  Admirable,— and  to  English  readers  indispensable  volumes;— not  merely 
a  charming,  but  an  ennobling  work." — Atlas. 

"  It  is  no  mean  praise  to  say,  that  but  one  man  in  Great  Britain  could  have 
treated  the  subject  more  amply  and  eloquently  than  Mr.  Howitt ;  need  we 
say  that  man  is — or  was — Professor  Wilson." — Metropolitan  Conservative 
Journal. 

"  It  must,  as  it.  deserves  to  do,  become  very  popular."— Literary  Oazette. 

"  One  of  the  most  beautiful,  vigorous,  fresh,  and  English-spirited  of  Mr. 
Hewitt's  productions.  It  is  a  work  for  all  classes,  rich  and  poor.  It  is  writ- 
ten with  good  sense  and  good  feeling."—  Court  Journal. 

"  We  know  not  in  what  part  of  the  works  of  Washington  Irvine,  or  even 
of  the  ever-praised  Charles  Lamb,  to  look  for  pictures  like  these.  They 
are  just  such  as  Goldsmith  would  have  described,  had  he  written  of  such 
places  and  their  associations,  in  prose."—  Unit cd  Service  Journal. 

"  The  work  contains  many  pleasant  papers  and  sketches  of  scenerv,  of 
mountain  and  moorland,  dingle  and  bushy  dell,  and  bosky  bourne,  that  are 
eqHal  to  Copley  Fielding,  and  only  inferior  to  Nature  herself.  English 
farmers,  too,  farm-servants,  life  in  the  dales  of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire, 
scenes  of  wild  and  lonely  cottage  life  in  the  Highlands/and  the  country 
pleasures  and  pursuits  of  our  mechanics  are  all  drawn  and  descanted  on  with 
singular  happiness;  in  fact,  every  paper  is  good  where  Mr.  Howitt  describes 
what  he  has  seen  and  felt." — Qthcnaum. 


THE  WORKS 

OF 

LORD      BACON. 

WITH  A  MEMOIR  AND  A  TRANSLATION  OF  HIS  LATIN  WRITINGS. 

BY  BASIL  MONTAGU,  ESQ. 

In  three  vols.  8vo. 


3 
LORD    BYRON. 

tr  aSfiiron's  poettcal 

SPLENDID    EDITION, 

In  8  vols.  12mo,  beautifully  printed  on  fine  paper. 
"With,  a  Portrait  of  the  Author. 

"  This  is  the  best  edition  of  Lord  Byron's  works  which  has 
been  published  in  this  country.  We  do  not  wish  our  readers 
to  credit  the  assertion  without  proof,  and  we,  therefore,  assign 
the  following  reasons : 

"  Imprimis.  It  is  printed  in  eight  large  duodecimo  volumes 
of  nearly  500  pages,  in  large  type,  on  beautiful  paper,  with 
neat  and  strong  binding. 

"  Secondly.  It  comprises  all  his  works  in  their  most  finished 
state,  with  the  author's  latest  corrections. 

"  Thirdly.  It  is  enriched  with  copious  notes  drawn  from  his 
memoirs,  and  his  personal  history,  as  otherwise  disclosed,  and 
with  critical  annotations  of  various  able  writers,  many  of  which 
serve  to  trace  the  sources  from  which  Lord  Byron  derived  the 
materials  of  his  compositions,  and  embody  no  small  portion  of 
the  literary  history  of  his  times.  We  are  not  aware  that  these 
rich  and  invalable  notes  are  to  be  found  in  any  other  American 
edition  of  the  works  of  the  noble  bard. 

"  Fourthly.  The  illustrative  matter  of  this  edition  is  evi- 
dently collated  by  the  able,  but  unknown  editor,  in  a  spirit  of 
perfect  candour,  without  any  overweening  admiration  of  the 
author's  genius,  but  with  a  full  appreciation  of  his  powers,  and 
a  clear  understanding  of  his  peculiar  faults  and  foibles — in 
short,  with  a  determination  to  do  him  ample  justice  as  a  poet 
and  as  a  man." — Messenger. 

"  The  edition  reflects  the  highest  credit  upon  the  publishers, 
and  is  admirably  suited,  either  for  a  public  or  a  private  library — 
we  commend  it  cordially." — Inquirer. 

"  The  style  in  which  these  eight  volumes  have  been  printed 
and  bound,  reflect  credit  upon  the  liberal  publishers,  who  have 
made  a  liberal  contribution  to  the  public  or  private  library." — 
U.  S.  Gazette. 


THE  MISCELLANEOUS  WRITINGS 

OF 

T.   BABINGTON    MACAULAY. 

A  new  edition,  complete  in  three  volumes. 

Purchasers   of  the  former    edition   in    Two  Volumes   are 

informed  that  an  additional  number  of  the 

Third  Volume  have  been  printed 

to  complete  their  copies. 

"  These  charming  volumes  are  made  up  of  contributions  of 
Mr.  Macaulay  to  the  '  Edinburgh  Review'  between  the  years 
1825  and  1837,*  with  an  appendix  containing  two  beautiful 
specimens  of  his  poetical  powers.  The  subjects  of  the  present 
essays  are  Milton,  Machiavelli,  Dryden,  History  and  Histo- 
rians, Hallam's  Constitutional  History,  Southey's  Colloquies 
on  Society,  Lord  Byron,  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  Johnson  and 
Bosvvell,  Hampden,  Lord  Burghley,  Mirabeau  and  the  French 
Revolution,  the  War  of  the  Succession  in  Spain,  Walpole's 
Letters  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  the  Earl  of  Chatham  and  his 
Times,  and  the  Life,  Character,  and  Philosophy  of  Lord  Bacon. 

"  Many  of  these  subjects,  it  is  obvious,  have  wider  relations : 
all  are  treated  with  extraordinary  sense,  learning,  force,  wit, 
and  eloquence. — Indeed  we  could  not  name  the  recent  work, 
in  which,  within  the  same  compass,  is  to  be  found  an  equal 
amount  of  entertainment  and  instruction.  We  remember, 
soon  after  the  publication  of  the  article  upon  Milton,  upon 
reading  it  in  a  retired  part  of  Europe,  where  we  had  no  means 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  its  authorship,  to  have  remarked 
that  the  Edinburgh  Review  had  obtained  some  new  contri- 
butor, capable  of  sustaining,  if  not  of  increasing  the  fame  of 
its  palmiest  days." — North  American  Review  for  October. 

"  Here  are  three  volumes  of  as  valuable  matter  as  are  to 
be  found  in  the  English  language.  Mr.  Macaulay  has  long 
been  a  contributor  to  the  best  English  Reviews,  and  his  papers 
are  remarkable  for  their  vigour  and  beauty  of  style,  their  deep 
erudition,  and  their  completeness." — New  World. 

"  Mr.  Macaulay  is  without  doubt  the  most  brilliant  writer  at 
present  enlisted  in  English  criticism;  and  his  numerous  con- 
tributions to  the  prominent  periodicals  of  Great  Britain  have 
attained  a  popularity  far  greater  than  is  usually  vouchsafed 
to  this  class  of  literary  productions.  His  style  is  classic,  re- 
markably vigorous,  and  at  times  dignified." — New  Yorker. 

*  The  third  volume  contains  all  Mr.  Macuulay's  writings  since 
that  time. 


TEN    THOUSAND    A-YEAR. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

«  DIARY  OF  A  LATE  PHYSICIAN." 
Complete  in  1  vol.  8vo. 

"  We  have  more  than  once  alluded  to  this  remarkable  story  since  the 
commencement  of  its  publication  in  Black  wood's  Magazine,  as  one  of  the 
most  interesting  and  powerfully  written  fictions  in  the  English  language. 
It  is  by  Samuef  Warren,  LL.D.  author  of '  Passages  from  the  Diary  of  a  late 
Physician,1  and  portions  of  it  equal  the  best  scenes  in  those  celebrated 
sketches.  The  object  of  the  writer  is,  apparently,  to  exhibit  in  the  strongest 
possible  light,  the  inherent  superiority  of  the  aristocrat  to  the  plebeian  ;  and 
for  this  purpose  he  translates  his  hero,  Tittlebat  Titmouse,  from  behind  the 
counter  of  Dowlas,  Tagrag  &,  Co.,  shopkeepers  in  London,  into  the  proprie- 
torship of  an  estate,  yielding  '  ten  thousand  a-year,'  where  he  enacts  such 
extravagances  as  might  be  expected  from  an  ignorant  and  base-born  mil- 
lionaire. Contrasted  with  Tittlebat  Titmouse,  is  Mr.  Aubrey,  a  man  of  ho- 
nour, education,  and  refinement,  who,  in  yielding  to  his  successful  adver- 
sary all  his  property,  and  the  influence  thereto  pertaining,  preserves  his 
high  character,  and  remains  the  '  perfect  pattern  of  a  true  gentleman.'  The 
characters  are  admirably  drawn,  and  well  supported,  though  some  of  them 
are  doubtless  caricatures  of  the  classes  they  are  said  to  represent,"— JVew 
Yorker. 

"  The  grandest  story  of  the  age." 

a  Whoever  has  within  him  a  sympathy  for  the  pure  and  good— whoever 
would  feel  his  better  nature  elevated,  and  his  belief  in  the  generous  and 
noble  feelings  of  the  human  heart  strengthened,  let  him  read  '  Ten  Thou- 
sand a- Year.'  " 


THE  AMERICAN 
FLOWER-GARDEN    DIRECTORY: 

CONTAINING 

PRACTICAL  DIRECTIONS  FOR  THE  CULTURE  OF  PLANTS  IN  THE 
FLOWER-GARDEN,  HOT-HOUSE,  GREEN-HOUSE,  ROOMS,  OR  PAR- 
LOUR WINDOWS,  FOR  EVERY  MONTH  THROUGHOUT  THE  YEAR, 
WITH  A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  PLANTS  MOST  DESIRABLE  IN 
EACH,  THE  NATURE  OF  THE  SOIL,  &C. 
TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED 

Full  Directions  for  the  Culture  of  the  Grape  Vine,  with  a  De- 
scriptive List  of  the  most  choice  Varieties,  and  those  best 
adapted  for  culture  in  the  open  air. 

SECOND  EDITION,  ENLARGED  AND  IMPROVED. 
BY  ROBERT  BUIST, 

NURSERYMAN     AND     FLORIST. 

In  1  vol.  8vo. 

"  This  differs  from  most  of  the  American  works  on  gardening,  in  being  an 
original  composition  from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  most  judiciously  adapted 
to  the  country  in  which  it  is  published  ;  and  the  author,  R.  Cuist,  of  Phila- 
delphia, ia  one  of  the  best  cultivators  in  the  United  States.  There  is  no 
American  work  that  we  know  of,  at  all  to  be  compared  with  it  in  point  of 
usefulness."— London's  Gardener's  Magazine. 
A* 


6 
THE    HISTORY 

OF 

THE    ANGLO-SAXONS; 

FROM  THE   EARLIEST  PERIOD  TO  THE    NORMAN  CONQUEST. 

BY  SHARON  TURNER. 

SACRED  HISTOR1 

In  2  vols.  8vo. 

From  the  Preface  to  the  Sixth  Edition. 

The  increasing  prosperity  of  the  British  nation,  and  the 
expansion  of  its  empire  by  the  new  colonies  which  arc  issuing 
from  it,  and  are  forming,  as  they  settle  and  enlarge,  new 
branches  of  dominion  to  it  in  the  distant  regions  of  our  globe, 
make  its  first  rudiments  and  humble  beginnings  more  interest- 
ing to  us.  To  represent  these  faithfully,  and  to  collect  from 
the  perishing  or  neglected  memorials  of  former  times  every 
circumstance  that  could  exhibit  them,  before  it  became  im- 
possible to  do  so  from  the  disappearance  of  the  ancient  docu- 
ments, and  from  the  overwhelming  flow  of  modern  events, 
revolutions,  and  diversified  knowledge,  which  have  made  the 
last  fifty  years  so  memorable,  was  the  favourite  object  of  the 
author,  when  in  his  youthful  days  he  conceived  the  idea,  and 
attempted  to  execute  it  in  the  following  work. 

That  he  should  have  lived  to  revise  its  sixth  edition,  was 
more  than  he  expected ;  for  it  is  now  thirty-seven  years  since 
he  published  its  first  volume.  This  is  pleasing  :  but  it  is  a 
still  greater  gratification  to  observe,  that  so  much  of  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public  continues  to  he  directed  to  the  transac- 
tions, remains,  and  language  of  their  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors, 
and  that  so  many  able  men  still  apply  themselves  to  illustrate 
this  truly  national  subject  by  various  and  valuable  publica- 
tions. It  was  one  of  his  earnest  wishes  that  men  of  talent  and 
industry  should  be  induced  to  do  so,  that  what  he  could  not 
but  learn  imperfectly  on  several  points  might  be  completed 
by  subsequent  research.  This  has  been  creditable  to  them- 


selves,  and  just  to  our  forefathers;  and  will  now  rescue  our 
most  importnnt  antiquities  from  future  oblivion. 

The  Anglo-Saxons  were  deficient  in  the  surprising  im- 
provement which  their  present  descendants  have  attained ; 
hut  unless  they  had  acquired  and  exercised  the  valuable  qua- 
lities, both  mental  and  intellectual,  which  they  progressively 
advanced  to  before  their  dynasty  ceased,  England  would  not 
have  become  that  distinguished  nation  which,  after  the  Nor- 
man graft  on  its  original  Saxon  stock,  it  has  since  been  gra- 
dually led  to  be. 

"This  splendid  historical  work  is  issued  by  the  publishers 
in  a  typographical  style  befitting  its  importance.  *  *  *  * 
In  a  word,  this  work  is  a  treasure  in  literature,  and  will  most 
assuredly  find  a  place  in  every  well-selected  library;  as  it 
dwells  at  length  upon  passages  in  the  history  of  England, 
which  it  has  been  the  custom  of  the  general  historian  to  slur 
over.  The  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  will  form  henceforth 
a  necessary  companion  to  the  best  volumes  on  English  his- 
tory."— Brother  Jonathan. 

"  It  is  from  the  press  of  Carey  &  Hart,  and  affords  another 
evidence,  from  the  excellent  style  in  which  it  is  reprinted, 
that  in  the  opinion  of  the  publishers  the  American  public  will 
sustain  their  efforts  in  presenting  works  more  valuable  than 
the  almost  worthless  fictions  of  the  day.  Mr.  Turner  begins 
with  the  history  of  the  various  nations  which  became  possessed 
of  Britain  in  the  earliest  ages,  explains  their  manners  and 
customs,  religion  and  warfare,  and  shows  the  effect  produced 
upon  the  Saxons  by  their  intermixture  with  their  predeces- 
sors. The  government,  laws,  superstitions,  and  literature  of 
the  Heptarchy,  are  fully  discussed  in  an  able  manner ;  and  the 
appendix  contains  many  interesting  as  well  as  instructive 
notices  of  other  matters  relating  to  the  Saxons,  as  for  instance, 
the  strength  and  beauty  of  their  language,  and  comparisons 
between  the  greatest  English  writers  respecting  their  use 
of  real  Saxon  words.  It  will  be  found  that  perhaps  the  most 
English  work  extant  is  the  translation  of  the  Bible  now  in 
use,  and  certainly  no  work  could  furnish  a  stronger  argument 
of  the  capabilities  of  our  vernacular.  We  commend  this  work 
as  a  valuable  addition  to  popular  knowledge. 

"  This  edition  is  an  exact  reprint  of  the  London  edition, 
and  contains  all  the  Saxon  language,  the  type  of  which  was 
cast  expressly  for  it.  The  French  edition,  of  which  a  con- 
siderable number  have  been  imported  into  this  country,  does 
not  contain  a  single  word  of  Saxon" — Boston  Morning  Post. 


8 
THE    WORKS 

OF 

LORD     BOLINGBROKE. 

COMPLETE. 

With  a  Life,  prepared  expressly  for  this  Edition. 

CONTAINING 

RECENT  INFORMATION  RELATIVE  TO  HIS  PER- 
SONAL AND  POLITICAL  CHARACTER, 

SELECTED    FROM    THE    BEST    AUTHORITIES. 

In  Four  Volumes  8vo.,  printed  on  large  type  and  fine  paper. 

Lord  Brougham's  Remarks. 

"Few  men  whose  public  life  was  so  short,  have  filled  a 
greater  space  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  during  his  own  times, 
than  Lord  Bolingbroke,  or  left  behind  them  a  more  brilliant 
reputation.  Not  more  than  fifteen  years  elapsed  between  his 
first  coming  into  parliament  and  his  attainder;  during  not 
more  than  ten  of  these  years  was  he  brought  before  the  public 
in  the  course  of  its  proceedings;  and  yet,  as  a  statesman  and 
an  orator,  his  name  ranks  among  the  most  famous  in  our  his- 
tory, independently  of  the  brilliant  literary  reputation  which 
places  him  among  the  best  classics  of  our  Augustan  Age." 

"  Of  all  the  public  characters  who  have  acted  a  prominent 
part  in  English  history  during  the  last  two  hundred  years, 
there  is  probably  no  statesman  who  takes  a  stronger  hold 
upon  the  imagination  than  Henry  St.  John,  Lord  Boling- 
broke. To  those  altogether  ignorant  of  English  politics,  his 
name  is  still  familiar  by  its  connexion  with  English  litera- 
ture. The  friend  and  correspondent  of  Pope  and  Swift — the 
writer  of  some  of  the  finest  essays  in  the  English  language — 
his  name  continually  presents  itself  in  the  literature  and  lite- 
rary history  of  Queen  Anne's  reign.  *  *  *  *  With  Bo- 
lingbroke as  a  writer,  this  age  has  principally  to  do.  To  the 
rare  excellence  of  his  style,  there  is  abundant  testimony  from 
critics  of  all  tastes.  It  is  adorned  and  elegant,  and  rhetori- 
cally correct; — but  this  is  its  least  merit.  It  is  nervous  and 
masculine,  and  flows  onward  like  a  river.  There  is  a  living 
and  life-giving  energy,  which  imparts  interest  to  even  old 
and  uninteresting  topics,  and  carries  the  reader  majestically 
along  the  rushing  tide  of  the  author's  thoughts.  *  *  *  * 
Messrs.  Carey  &  Hart  deserve  the  thanks  of  all  lovers  of 
good  standard  literature  for  their  beautiful  editions  of  Boling- 
broke."— Boston  Notion. 


9 

LIFE    OF     PETRARCH. 

BY    THOMAS   CAMPBELL. 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  "  PLEASURES  OF  HOPE." 

Handsomely  printed  in  1  vol.  8vo. 

"  It  may  be  asserted  with  confidence,  that  there  are  very 
few,  even  among  well-informed  persons,  who  know  any  thing 
more  of  Petrarch  than  as  a  poet  and  as  the  adorer  of  Laura. 
They  are  not  aware  that  this  poet  of  love  for  all  times  and  all 
nations  was  also  a  statesman,  who  lived  and  corresponded 
with  the  greatest  men  of  his  age,  and  who  was  intrusted  with 
important  diplomatic  missions;  and  that  literature  owes  him 
infinite  obligations  for  the  pains  which  he  took  to  preserve 
the  ancient  classic  writers,  and  to  encourage  a  taste  for  the 
study  of  their  works.  Those  who  would  wish  to  make  them- 
selves acquainted  with  Petrarch's  history  and  merits  will 
learn  with  interest  that  the  celebrated  author  of  *  The  Plea- 
sures of  Hope'  has  just  completed  a  life  of  him  in  which, 
with  the  feelings  of  a  genuine  poet,  he  has  done  full  justice 
to  the  character  of  this  eminent  man  in  all  its  bearings.  The 
fruit  of  mature  reflection,  for  it  has  occupied  the  author  some 
years,  this  work  discusses  the  history  and  character  of  its 
celebrated  subject,  poetical,  literary  and  moral,  without  par- 
tiality or  prejudice,  and  in  a  tone  of  liberality  that  pervades 
all  the  works  of  his  not  less  celebrated  biographer." 


atuval 

BY    THOMAS    MILLER. 

"  We  have  never  met  with  any  thing  of  a  similar  character 
to  *  Home  Revisited,'  the  opening  paper,  which  has  touched 
and  delighted  us  so  much." — London  Literary  Gazette. 

"This  volume  is  in  its  style  'as  fresh  as  hawthorn  buds.' 
It  is  a  pleasant  book,  sans  apology  or  qualification." — Atlie- 
n  (Bum. 


10 

A    COMPLETE     EDITION 

OF 
THE    WORKS 

OF 

SIR      WALTER      SCOTT. 

COMPRISING 

The  Waverley  Novels,  complete — Poetical  Works,  including 
the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border — Lives  of  Swift  and 
Dryden — Lives  of  the  Novelists — History  of  Scotland — 
Tales  of  my  Grandfather,  four  series — Life  of  Napoleon — 
Essays  on  Chivalry,  Romance,  &c. — Demonology  and 
Witchcraft— Paul's  Letters  to  his  Kinsfolk— Sermons,  &c. 

THE  WHOLE   REVISED  AND  CORRECTED  BY  HIMSELF. 
TO    WHICH    IS    ADDED 

HIS  LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE, 

EDITED  BY 

J.    G.    LOCKHART. 

Forming  ike  only  complete  and  uniform  edition  of  the 
toritings  of  the  "  Magician  of  the  North"  ever  pub- 
lished in  America. 

The  whole  comprised  in  10  vols.  8vo. 
EMBELLISHED    WITH    TEN    FINE    ENGRAVINGS. 

PRICE,  ELEGANTLY  BOUND  IN  EMBOSSED  CLOTH,  TWENTY 
DOLLARS. 


11 

THE  COMPLETE  WORKS 

OF 

CAPTAIN      MARRY  AT. 

In  one  vol.  8vo. 


THE  COMPLETE  WORKS 

OF 

LADY      BLESSINGTON. 

In  one  vol.  8vo. 


THE  COMPLETE  WORKS 

OF 

MISS     LANDON. 

Romance  and  Reality.  The  Troubadour. 

Francesca  Carrara.  Venetian  Bracelet. 

Traits  and  Stories.  Voice  of  the  Peacock. 

The  Improvisatrice.  Easter  Gift. 
The  Golden  Violet.  &c.  &c. 

In  one  vol.  8vo. 

"The  praise  of  Miss  Landon  has  been  in  all  the  literary  circle?,  since  the 
publication  of  the  'Improvisatrice,'  in  1824.  Her  Poems  placed  her  in  the 
first  rank  of  her  contemporaries,  and  her  Novels  have  fully  sustained  this 
enviable  reputation.  The  publishers  have  done  her  fulF  justice  in  this  ele- 
gant edition  of  her  works,  which  adds  one  more  volume  to  their  series  of 
complete  works  of  popular  authors,  making  fifteen  volumes  in  all;  and 
comprehending  the  works  of  Bulwer,  Marryat,  D'Israeli,  Lady  Blessington, 
and  Sir  Walter  Scott; — the  last  in  ten  volumes,  royal  octavo,  to  correspond 
with  the  others.  What  a  library  of  light  and  solid  reading !  What  au  ever- 
lasting fund  of  entertainment  for  one  who  ives  on  his  plantation,  and  has 
much  spare  time."— Messenger. 

"  One  of  the  handsomest  books  of  the  day  is  that  embracing  the  complete 
works  of  L.  E.  L.,  which  has  just  been  published  by  Carey  and  Hart.  The 
admirers  of  that  gifted  lady— and  she  has  them  by  thousands— will  be  pleased 
to  possess  this  most  various  volume."— Philad.  Qazctte. 


12 
A  TREATISE 

ON   THE 

MANAGEMENT    OF    INFANCY. 

BY  ANDREW  COMBE,  M.D. 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  TREATISE  ON  PHYSIOLOGY." 

WITH  NOTES  AND  ADDITIONS  BY  JOHN  BELL,  M.  D. 
In  one  vol.  12mo. 

"  This  work  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  not  only  of  every  physician,  but 
should  also  find  a  conspicuous  place  in  every  family  library,  and  its  pages  be 
carefully  studied  by  every  one  who  is  or  who  anticipates  to  be  a  parent. 
Were  the  precepts  and  principles  it  inculcates  to  be  fully  carried  out  by  every 
mother,  in  the  management  of  her  offspring,  not  merely  would  their  health 
and  comfort  be  more  effectually  insured,  during  infancy,  but  even  in  after 
life  they  would  escape  the  many  infirmities,  sufferings,  and  diseases,  the 
seeds  of  which  are  sown  in  the  nursery,  when  the  system  there  pursued  is, 
as  too  generally  happens,  one  in  direct  opposition  to  the  physiological  laws 
of  the  infantile  organism." — American  Medical  Journal. 


A   PHRENOLOGICAL   TOUR 

IN 

THE    UNITED    STATES. 
BY  GEORGE  COMBE,  ESQ. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  A  TREATISE  ON  PHRENOLOGY,"  &C. 


VISITS 

TO 

REMARKABLE    PLACES, 


AND 

SCENES  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  STRIKING  PASSAGES  IN 
ENGLISH  POETRY  AND  HISTORY. 

BY  WILLIAM  HOWITT. 

AUTHOR   OF   "  THE   RURAL   LIFE   OF   ENGLAND." 

2  vols.  12mo. 


THE 


BOOK  OF  THE  SEASONS; 


OR,  THE 


CALENDAR  OF   NATURE. 


BY  WILLIAM  HO  WITT. 


Every  thing  is  beautiful  in  his  season.  SOLOMON. 

If  one  train  of  thinking  be  more  desirable  than  another,  it  is  that 
which  regards  the  Phenomena  of  Nature,  with  a  constant  reference  to 
a  Supreme  Intelligent  Author.  PALEY. 


FROM  THE  SIXTH  LONDON  EDITION. 

PHILADELPHIA: 

CAREY    AND    HART. 

1842. 


18*42. 


MAIN  Ll«**A«Y-AGmCUCTUI«C 


C.  SHERMAN  AND  CO.  PRINTERS, 

19  St.  James  Street. 


TO 

MARY    HOWITT, 

AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD, 

IN   THE    FIELDS    OF   NATURE    AND    OF   LITERATURE, 
THE    ONE    TRUE    COMPANION   AND 

FELLOW-LABOURER, 

THIS   VOLUME    IS    INSCRIBED 

BY   HER   AFFECTIONATE    HUSBAND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


€67785 


VI  ADVERTISEMENT. 

My  plan  has  been  to  furnish  an  original  article  on  the 
general  appearances  of  Nature  in  each  month,  drawn  en- 
tirely from  my  own  regular  observations  through  many 
seasons;  and  finally,  to  superadd  a  great  variety  of  facts 
from  the  best  sources,  as  well  as  such  as  occurred  to  myself 
after  the  principal  article  was  written.  To  these,  a  complete 
table  of  the  Migrations  of  Birds ;  a  copious  list  of  Garden 
Plants  which  come  into  flower  in  the  month;  a  Botanical 
Calendar,  including  a  select  number  of  the  most  beautiful  or 
interesting  British  plants,  and  an  Entomological  Catalogue 
of  about  three  hundred  of  the  most  common  or  remarkable 
insects;  a  notice  of  Rural  Occupations,  and,  finally,  one  of 
Angling,  are  added. 

For  assistance  in  drawing  up  the  Botanical  and  Entomo- 
logical Calendars,  I  am  indebted  to  my  brother,  Dr.  Godfrey 
Howitt. 

Nottingham,  December  15th,  1830. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER xiii 

JANUARY. — Characteristics  of  the  Season.  Prevalence  of  Darkness. 
Snows.  Intense  Frost.  Snow-storms  in  the  Mountains.  Plea- 
sures of  the  British  Fireside.  Miseries  of  the  Poor.  Continued 
Frost.  Immense  destruction  of  Vermin,  Birds,  etc.  at  this  sea- 
son. Taking  Larks  at  Dunstable.  Bird-moping.  Walking  in 
frosty  weather.  Glazed  Frost,  its  dangerous  effects.  The  Hoar 
Frost,  its  beauty.  Winter  Flowers.  Occasional  intervals  of 
mild  weather,  its  effect.  Remarkable  change  of  the  Winter 
Season.  January,  why  so  called  by  the  Latins;  its  Saxon 
name.  Physical  defence  of  Plants  from  frost.  The  Throstle, 
the  Nuthatch.  Reappearance  of  Worms  and  Slugs.  Hedge- 
sparrows,  Thrush,  and  Blackbird  sing.  Hens  lay.  Early 
Lambs.  Habits  of  various  Birds.  Rural  Occupations.  An- 
gling. Migration  of  Birds.  The  Garden.  Calendar  of  Garden 
Flowers.  Entomological  Calendar.  .  »  *  •„•  .  25 

FEBRUARY. — Characteristics.  Wet.  Great  Thaw.  Damps.  Winds. 
Storm  on  the  Coast.  Symptoms  of  Spring.  February,  its  name. 
Habits  of  Birds,  etc.  Budding  of  Trees.  Dissected  Leaves. 
Moles,  and  Mole-catchers.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Mi- 
gration of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and 
Entomological  Calendars.  .  .  .  .  •••._  -^  58 

LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  No.  1,  Spring.  .        .        .     '   .   v    •        72 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

MARCH. — Characteristics.  Winds.  Progress  of  Vernal  appear- 
ances. Vernal  sensations.  Mornings  in  March.  Rural  objects. 
Snail-shells.  Young  Herbs.  Rhubarb.  March,  its  name. 
Awakening  of  dormant  animals.  Various  appearances  of  ani- 
mals and  vegetables.  The  Primrose.  Starlings.  Rural  Occu- 
pations. Angling.  Migration  of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden 
Flowers.  Botanical  and  Entomological  Calendars.  .  74 

APRIL. — Characteristics.  Progress  of  Vegetation.  Vernal  Cro- 
cuses. Trees  in  blossom.  Return  of  migratory  Birds.  Bird's 
nests  and  eggs.  Their  beauty  and  picturesque  situations.  April, 
its  name.  Description  of  Spring  by  Gawain  Douglas.  Leafing 
of  Trees  a  directory  for  sowing.  Habits  of  animals  this  month. 
Satanic  footsteps.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Migration 
of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and  Ento- 
mological Calendars i  ..^  ^  .  90 

MAY. — Characteristics.  Flowers  of  woods,  waters,  and  heaths. 
Beautiful  appearance  of  Woods.  Pleasant  prospects  at  the  end 
of  the  month.  Fulness  of  Foliage.  Depth  and  richness  of 
Grass.  Cottage  Gardens.  Hawthorns.  The  Nightingale. 
Flowers.  The  love  of  them  natural  to  Children.  Moral  em- 
blems with  all  nations.  Use  of  them  among  the  Greeks ;  the 
Hebrews.  The  beautiful  illustration  they  afforded  to  Christ. 
Flowers  in  the  Desert.  The  use  of  them  in  the  East;  in  Italy. 
Present  taste  for  the  cultivation  of  Flowers.  May,  its  name. 
The  Wayfaring  Tree.  Bcnting-time  of  Pigeons.  Leafing  of 
Trees  completed.  Bees,  their  swarms.  Popular  customs  re- 
garding them.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Migration  of 
Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and  Entomo- 
logical Calendars,  •--•x.  ';•:..';  .  .r  «  .  .  .  125 

LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  No.  2,  Summer ]  57 

JUNE. — Darkening  hues  of  Foliage.  Variety  and  beauty  of 
Foliage.  The  Horse-chestnut.  Beauty  of  June  weather. 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Universal  life,  greenness  and  vigour.  Cruel  and  wanton  havoc 
made  amongst  young  birds  at  this  season.  Gardens  in  their 
prime.  Summer  pleasures.  Delicious  evenings.  Mowing. 
Green  Fruits.  Grasses  in  Flower.  Hay -harvest  commencing 
Summer  Floods.  Sheep-shearing,  its  ancient  festivities.  Wild 
Flowers  and  their  old  names.  Holy  Flowers.  June,  its  name. 
Midsummer  Flowers.  Fern  Owl.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling. 
Migration  of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical 
and  Entomological  Calendars.  f^  ;•"*•• '.ji'H  u*(.  .  160 

JULY. — Characteristics.  Hay-harvest.  Remarks  on  old  sports. 
Progress  of  knowledge.  Silence  of  Birds.  Boys  taking 
Wasps'-nests.  Hornets.  Twining  Plants.  Summer  Flowers. 
The  pleasantness  and  beauty,  and  the  curious  productions  of 
Heaths.  Woods.  The  Birdboy.  Field-paths;  their  pleasant 
associations.  Picturesque  characters.  Poets  and  Field-paths. 
Paths  among  the  Mountains.  Stiles  and  their  varieties.  The 
Domine  and  the  Turnstile.  Gradual  disappearance  of  Field- 
paths.  Encroachments  of  the  rich  upon  the  poor.  July,  its 
name.  Periodical  appearances,  animal  and  vegetable.  Rural 
Occupations.  Angling.  Migration  of  Birds.  Calendar  of 
Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and  Entomological  Calendars.  199 

AUGUST. — Characteristics.  Corn-harvest.  Pleasant  scenes  in  the 
harvest-field.  Picturesque  features  of  Harvest  as  given  in  the 
Bible.  Harvesters.  Harvest-home.  Harvest-moon.  Second 
budding  of  Trees.  Refreshed  verdure  and  flowers  of  the  Fields* 
Singular  preservation  of  Seeds  in  the  earth.  Aquatic  vegeta- 
tion. Habits  of  the  Water-rat.  The  Land-rail.  Combat  be- 
tween a  Rabbit  and  Weasel.  Young  Frogs.  Mushrooms. 
Hedge-fruit.  White  Fogs.  Sea-side  Rambles.  Field  Sports. 
Remarkable  appearance  of  clouds,  August,  1827.  August,  its 
name.  Periodical  appearances  in  the  month.  Hop-gathering. 
Tusser's  rules  for  Hop  Grounds.  Origin  of  Fairy  Rings. 


X  CONTENTS. 

Rural  Occupations.  Angling-.  Migration  of  Birds.  Calendar 
of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and  Entomological  Calen- 
dars. .  .  .- ••^'V'.  .  -  .  .  .  .  235 

LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  No.  3,  Autumn.      ....        261 

SEPTEMBER. — Sportsman's  preparations,  his  pleasures,  his  uncon- 
scious love  of  Nature,  his  picturesque  haunts.  The  Hunter,  a 
poem.  Mountains,  their  effect  on  the  imagination,  on  the  cha- 
racter of  their  inhabitants.  On  the  liberty  of  Nations.  Lonely 
and  simple  life  among  Mountains.  The  magnificence  and 
variety  in  mountain  scenery.  Geometric  Spider.  Gossamer. 
Beauty  of  Autumnal  landscape.  The  transparency  of  the 
Atmosphere.  Swallows  preparing  for  departure.  Singing  of 
young  Birds.  Nutting.  Villeggiatura.  Description  of  a 
Nutting  excursion.  Fungi,  their  beauty  and  variety.  Septem- 
ber, its  name.  Saffron.  Apple-gathering.  Sea-side.  Beauty 
of  submarine  productions.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Mi- 
gration of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  and 
Entomological  Calendars 265 

OCTOBER. — Characteristics.  Autumnal  glooms.  Orchards  cleared 
of  fruit.  Splendour  of  wood  scenery.  Delights  of  the  Woods. 
Estimation  of  Woods  among  the  Ancients.  Poetical  associa- 
tions of  Woods.  Beauty  of  Trees,  their  effect  upon  the  mind 
of  certain  great  men.  Trees,  as  mentioned  in  the  Bible.  Cele- 
brated Trees  of  modern  times.  Devotional  influence  of  Woods. 
Gorgeous  appearance  of  Woods  previous  to  the  fall  of  the  leaf. 
The  Greenwood,  a  poem.  October,  its  name.  Dissemination 
of  Plants,  curious  contrivances  in  seeds  for  that  purpose. 
Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Migration  of  Birds.  Calendar 
of  Garden  Flowers.  Botanical  Calendar.  .  .  .291 

NOVEMBER. — Gloom  of  November.  Ossian.  Storms  and  Mists.. 
Introduction  to  complete  Winter.  Desolate  aspect  of  Gardens. 
Influence  of  the  Season  on  different  minds.  Arrival  of  Field- 


CONTENTS.  XI 

fares  and  Redwings.  Occasional  fine  days.  First  appearance 
of  Winter.  Frost  and  Snow.  Amusements  in  Snow.  Fireside 
employments  in  farm-houses  and  cottages.  Bird-catching. 
Singing  Birds  in  cages,  selfishness  of  the  practice.  Daily 
Wayfarers.  November,  its  name.  Moles  retire  to  their  nests. 
Salmon  ascend  the  rivers.  Attention  requisite  for  Bees  and 
Pigeons.  Various  animals  seek  their  winter  retreats.  Birds'- 
nests  occupied  by  Mice.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling.  Mi- 
gration of  Birds.  Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  .  .  304 

LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS,  No.  4,  Winter 326 

DECEMBER. — Description  of  Winter  by  Gawain  Douglas.  Deso- 
late aspect  of  Nature.  Disappearance  of  many  varieties  of 
living  things.  Men  resort  to  towns  and  to  their  houses.  Fami- 
lies collected.  The  Author  and  his  literary  labours.  Beauty 
of  Winter.  Moonlight  and  starry  skies,  they  inspire  solemn 
feelings  and  ideas.  Concluding  remarks.  December,  its  name. 
Evergreens.  Winter  Fruit.  Rural  Occupations.  Angling. 
Calendar  of  Garden  Flowers.  Migration  of  Birds.  All  Sea- 
sons welcome.  ........  330 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 

IT  ought  to  be  the  leading  resolve,  the  great 
living  and  actuating  desire  of  every  man  who  has 
arrived  at  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  of  every 
man  especially  who  has  received  the  blessing  of  a 
good  education,  to  do  something  which  shall  tend 
to  the  prosperity  of  his  country  and  of  his  species — 
something  beyond  the  mere  routine  of  those  duties 
which  belong  to  the  ordinary  life  of  every  good 
citizen,  and  which  yet  may  be  achieved  without  the 
neglect  of  those  duties,  or  without  forsaking  that 
sphere  in  which  Nature  and  Providence  have  cast 
his  lot;  something,  however  small,  which  shall  ad- 
vance, or  at  least  aim  to  advance,  the  refinement  and 
moral  elevation  of  his  race.  This  is  the  only  mode 
by  which  we  can  discharge,  greatly  and  fully,  that 
debt  of  blessings  which  we  receive  from  God,  our 
parents,  and  the  community  in  which  we  live ;  for 
mere  thankfulness  of  heart,  unseconded  by  deeds  of 
beneficence  and  the  virtuous  exercise  of  an  enlight- 
ened intellect,  pays  nothing,  but  leaves  unsatisfied 
the  highest  claims  of  our  nature,  and  that  natural 
longing  after  the  enjoyment  and  the  diffusion  of 
happiness  which  fills  every  healthful  bosom. 

Such  a  desire,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  confess,  has 
2 


XIV  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

long  haunted  me ;  has  mingled  itself  with  my  cogi- 
tations, and,  however  trivial  may  appear  the  result, 
has  been  a  principal  cause  of  my  putting  together 
this  work ;  as  it  must  be  the  desire  of  every  en- 
lightened mind  to  look  round  him  and  consider  in 
what  way  he  can  best  promote  the  national  welfare. 
For  my  own  part,  reflecting  how  many  are  effec- 
tively making  known  the  sublime  truths  of  our  reli- 
gion, how  many  are  gloriously  labouring  in  the  fair 
fields  of  literature,  I  am  rather  desirous  to  turn  the 
eyes  of  those  whose  attention  I  may  be  so  happy 
as  to  gain  on  the  loveliness  and  influence  of  Nature; 
believing,  that  in  so  doing,  I  am  subserving  religion 
and  literature  also.  In  truth,  there  is  no  spirit 
which  it  is  more  important  to  cherish  in  a  com- 
mercial people,  as  we  are,  than  a  spirit  of  attach- 
ment to  Nature.  Were  it  not  that  it  had  been 
fostered  by  our  inestimable  literature — a  literature 
which  has  caught  its  noble  tone  from  the  Christian 
faith — there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  calculating 
spirit  of  trade  would  long  ago  have  quenched  in 
the  national  heart  those  lofty  sentiments  which  have 
borne  it  proudly  in  the  eyes  of  an  admiring  world 
above  all  contamination ;  and  that  we  should  have 
sunk  into  that  sordid  narrowness  of  soul  which  has 
regularly  marked  commercial  states.  It  is  a  spirit 
which,  however,  as  commerce  advances,  becomes 
more  and  more  endangered  by  the  very  circum- 
stance of  our  population  being  engulfed  in  great 
towns.  Books  can  and  do  penetrate  into  every 
nook  of  our  most  extended  and  crowded  cities; 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER  XV 

but  every  day  these  cities  and  towns  enlarge  their 
boundaries,  and  the  sweet  face  of  Nature  is  hidden 
from  the   inhabitants.     We   should,   therefore,  not 
only   make   our   books   breathe  into  the  depth  of 
every  street,  court,  and  alley,  the  natural  aliment 
of  human  hearts — the  love  of  Nature — but  rouse 
them,  like  a  trumpet,  to  get  out  at  times,  and  renew 
that  animating  fellowship  which  God  designed  to 
be  maintained  between  the  soul  of  man  and  the 
beauty  of  the  universe.     It  is  a  principle  undoubt- 
edly implanted  in  every  breast; — it  is  one  which 
cannot,  perhaps,  be  utterly  extinguished.     We  see 
it  under  the  most  unfavourable  circumstances,  after 
years    of    oppression    and    alienation,    struggling 
through  its  barriers  and  exhibiting  itself  in  some 
miserable  specimens  of  plants  in  pots,  in  the  little 
nooks  of  dreary  and  smoke-blighted  gardens  in  the 
centre  of  the  densest  cities,  and  in  the  lowest  habi- 
tations of  poverty  and  ignorance.     But  it  is  a  prin- 
ciple which    requires,   like   all   others,   cultivation. 
Let  it  once  be  lit  up,  and  it  will  never  die !     Let 
the  mind  in  which  it  has  once  been  excited,  become 
enlightened  and  expanded  with  knowledge,  and  it 
"  will  grow  with  its  growth,  and  strengthen  with  its 
strength."     Thus  it  is  that  it  has  ever  been  found 
the  most  intense  in  the  greatest  minds ;  the  poets 
especially  (who  are,  if  truly  entitled  to  that  glorious 
name,  particularly  accustomed  to  cherish  in  their 
spirits  pure  and   lofty  sentiments,  liberal  opinions, 
warm  and  generous  emotions,   that  their  writings 
being   eminently  imbued  with  those  qualities  may 


XVi  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

diffuse  them  through  society  in  counteraction  of 
the  deadening  spirit  of  the  world,)  are  found  inva- 
riably ardent  lovers  of  Nature.  To  them  it  is  a 
passion  and  an  appetite — their  voice  sounds  from 
antiquity  in 

Flumina  amem  sylvasque  inglorius. 

Need  I  advert  to  our  older  poets,  who  are  full  of 
it  ?  To  Chaucer,  to  Gawain  Douglas,  to  the  pic- 
turesque and  Arcadian  Spenser,  to  the  universal 
Shakspeare,  to  the  solemn  majesty  of  Milton? 
What  a  beauty  and  a  freshness  mark  the  poetry 
of  the  last  great  man  whenever  he  touches  on 
Nature !  We  feel,  as  expressed  in  his  own  simile, 

As  one  who  long-  in  populous  cities  pent, 
Where  houses  thick  and  sewers  annoy  the  air, 
Forth  issuing  on  a  summer  morn  to  breathe 
Among  the  pleasant  villages  and  farms. 

But  the  full  extent  of  his  love  is  only  to  be  felt 
where  he  laments  the  loss  of  his  sight.  Speaking 
of  light,  he  says, 

Thee  I  revisit  safe, 

And  feel  thy  sovran,  vital  lamp ;  but  thou 
Revisit'st  not  these  eyes,  that  roll  in  vain 
To  find  thy  piercing  ray,  and  find  no  dawn; 
So  thick  a  drop  serene  hath  quenched  their  orbs, 
Or  dim  suffusion  veiled :  yet  not  the  more 
Cease  I  to  wander  where  the  Muses  haunt 
Clear  spring,  or  shady  grove,  or  sunny  hill, 
Smit  with  the  love  of  sacred  song ;  but  chief 
Thee,  Sion,  and  the  flowery  brooks  beneath, 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER.  XV11 

That  wash  thy  hallowed  feet,  and  warbling  flow, 
Nightly  I  visit — 

Thus  with  the  year 
Seasons  return ;  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose, 
Or  flocks  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine ; 
But  cloud  instead,  and  ever-during  dark 
Surrounds  me,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men 
Cut  off,  and  for  the  book  of  knowledge  fair 
Presented  with  a  universal  blank 
Of  Nature's  works,  to  me  expunged  and  rased, 
And  wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  out. 

PARADISE  LOST,  b.  iii. 

Thomson  and  Cowper  powerfully  promoted  this 
spirit  amongst  their  contemporaries  ;  but  our  own 
times  furnish,  perhaps,  a  more  remarkable  instance 
in  Lord  Byron.  Unlike  theirs,  his  soul  had  not 
been  soothed  into  wisdom  and  nourished  into  power 
in  the  silence  of  retirement,  and  by  the  beam  of  the 
academic  lamp, — but  had  been  hurried  through  the 
agitating  splendours  of  rank  and  fashion,  the  intoxi- 
cation of  unexampled  popularity,  the  fascinations  of 
love  and  beauty ;  but  he  had  made  acquaintance 
with  Nature  in  her  solitude  and  sublimity  in  his 
boyhood ;  and  with  what  ardent  sighs  did  he  long 
after  her ! — with  what  contempt  did  he  turn  from 
all  other  allurements,  and  pour  into  her  bosom  the 
burning  language  of  his  devotion!  He  may  be 
said  to  have  been  her  pilgrim  into  all  lands  in 
which  she  displays  the  sovereignty  of  her  beauty 
and  grandeur. 

2* 


XV111  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

All  heaven  and  earth  are  still — though  not  in  sleep, 
But  breathless  as  we  grow  when  feeling  most ; 
And  silent,  as  we  stand  in  thoughts  too  deep : — 
All  heaven  and  earth  are  still :  from  the  high  host 
Of  stars  to  the  hilled  lake  and  mountain  coast, 
All  is  concentred  in  a  life  intense, 
Where  not  a  beam,  nor  air,  nor  leaf  is  lost, 
But  hath  a  part  of  being,  and  a  sense 
Of  that  which  is  of  all  Creator  and  defence. 

Then  stirs  the  feeling  infinite,  so  felt 
In  solitude,  when  we  are  least  alone, 
A  truth  which  through  our  being  then  doth  melt 
And  purifies  from  self;  it  is  a  tone, 
The  soul  and  source  of  music,  which  makes  known 
Eternal  harmony,  and  sheds  a  charm, 
Like  to  the  fabled  Cytherea's  zone, 
Binding  all  things  with  beauty;  'twould  disarm 
The  spectre  Death,  had  he  substantial  power  to  harm, 

Not  vainly  did  the  early  Persian  make 
His  altar  the  high  places,  and  the  peak 
Of  earth-o'ergazing  mountains,  and  thus  take 
A  fit  and  unwalled  temple,  there  to  seek 
The  spirit,  in  whose  honour  shrines  are  weak, 
Upreared  of  human  hands.     Come  and  compare 
Columns  and  idol-dwellings,  Goth  or  Greek, 
With  Nature's  realms  of  worship,  earth  and  air, 
Nor  fix  on  fond  abodes  to  circumscribe  thy  prayer. 

CHILDE  HAROLD,  Canto  iii. 

To  particularize  amongst  our  recent  or  living 
poets  those  who  have  displayed  a  deep  sense  of  the 
beauty  and  power  of  Nature,  would  be  to  enume- 
rate all  who  are  by  any  means  distinguished ;  but 
Scott,  Southey,  Coleridge,  Campbell,  and  Rogers, 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER.  XIX 

who  were  amongst  the  first  to  call  back  our  poetry 
from  Art  to  Nature,  must  not  be  passed  in  silence  ; 
— Shelley,  Keats,  Leigh  Hunt,  three  noble  poets, 
classed  in  the  same  school,  yet  each  widely  differ- 
ing from  the  other,  have  greatly  promoted  her 
influence,  the  last  in  much  beautiful  prose; — Bloom- 
field  and  Clare,  Burns  and  Elliot,  all  strong  and 
true  sons  of  Nature, — and  the  last  of  whom  is 
never  more  inspired  and  inspiring  than  when  he 
climbs  Stanedge,  and  rejoices  in  its  dark  majesty, 
amid  the  winds,  and  crags,  and  dashing  streams  of 
mountain  moorlands,  must  each  have  his  own 
appropriate  niche;  the  names  of  Mrs.  Hemans, 
Miss  Bowles,  and  Miss  Mitford,  amongst  our 
female  writers,  claim  in  this,  as  in  other  respects, 
the  highest  honours ;  and  Wordsworth  has  so 
gazed  upon  Nature,  not  only  with  the  eyes  of  love, 
but  of  philosophy — he  has  so  completely  retired  to 
the  perpetual  contemplation  of  her  charms  and  the 
communion  with  her  spirit,  and  has  so  fully  ex- 
pressed all  that  I  am  anxious  to  testify  of  her  moral 
influence,  that  I  must  make  from  him  one  quotation. 

Nature  never  did  betray 

The  heart  that  loved  her  !     'Tis  her  privilege, 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy,  for  she  can  so  inform 
The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 
With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues, 
Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 
Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  common  life, 


XX  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER. 

Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 

Our  cheerful  faith  that  all  that  we  behold 

Is  full  of  blessings.     Therefore  let  the  moon 

Shine  on  thee  in  thy  solitary  walk ; 

And  let  the  misty  mountain  winds  be  free 

To  blow  against  thee ;  and  in  after-years, 

When  these  wild  ecstasies  shall  be  matured 

Into  a  sober  pleasure — when  the  mind 

Shall  be  a  mansion  for  all  lovely  forms, 

Thy  memory  be  a  dwelling-place 

For  all  sweet  sounds  and  harmonies,  oh !  then, 

If  solitude,  or  fear,  or  pain,  or  grief, 

Should  be  thy  portion,  with  what  healing  thoughts 

Of  tender  joy  wilt  thou  remember  me, 

And  these  my  benedictions ! 

Such  is  the  united  testimony  of  our  greatest 
poetical  minds;  and  such  is  my  firm  faith,  that 
God  has  not  only  implanted  in  the  depths  of  our 
hearts  a  pure  and  quick  moral  sense  of  his  good- 
ness, and  of  the  excellency  of  virtue,  but  has  so 
constructed  the  world,  that  the  same  saving,  puri- 
fying, and  ennobling  principles,  are  reflected  upon 
us  from  every  natural  object.  "  Between  the  Poet 
and  Nature,"  says  Schlegel,  "no  less  than  between 
the  poet  and  man,  there  is  a  sympathy  of  feeling. 
Not  only  in  the  song  of  the  nightingale,  or  in  the 
melodies  to  which  all  men  listen,  but  even  in  the 
roar  of  the  stream  and  the  rushing  of  the  forest, 
the  poet  thinks  that  he  hears  a  kindred  voice  of 
sorrow  or  of  gladness  ;  as  if  spirits  and  feelings 
like  our  own  were  calling  to  us  from  afar,  or  seek- 
ing to  sympathize  and  communicate  with  us  from 
the  utmost  nearness  to  which  their  natures  will 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER.  XXI 

allow  them  to  approach  us.  It  is  for  the  purpose 
of  listening  to  these  tones,  and  of  holding  mysterious 
converse  with  the  soul  of  Nature,  that  every  great 
poet  is  a  lover  of  solitude !"  Therefore 

Blessings  be  with  them,  and  eternal  praise, 
Who  gave  us  nobler  loves,  and  nobler  cares — 
The  poets ! 

and  not  with  the  poets  only,  but  with  the  greatest 
names  in  our  philosophy ;  Newton,  Bacon,  Locke, 
and  a  host  of  others ;  nor  less  with  a  multitude  of 
authors  throughout  every  department  of  our  litera- 
ture, who  have  with  one  accord  turned  us  for 
wisdom  to  the  great  book  of  Nature.  Not  a  little 
has  honest  Izaak  Walton  contributed  to  spread  his 
own  love  of  quiet  haunts  and  streams,  his  own 
tranquil  and  benevolent  piety.  And  to  our  Natu- 
ralists, what  do  we  not  owe !  Every  one  of  them 
who  assists  to  turn  the  attention  of  our  youth  to 
subjects  which  must  lead  them  out  to  the  country, 
be  he  but  the  merest  plodder,  the  merest  arranger 
of  other  men's  knowledge,  the  merest  cataloguer 
of  names,  does  a  good  service:  but  such  men  as 
Gilbert  White,  Bewick,  Evelyn,  etc.,  who  explore 
with  enthusiastic  and  indefatigable  delight  every 
natural  haunt,  and  cast  round  their  labours  the 
beaming  halo  of  genius,  attracting  thousands  to 
the  objects  of  their  admiration,  must  be  classed 
amongst  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  human 
race. 

It  is  with  unspeakable  delight  that  I  behold  every 


XX11  INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER. 

branch  of  Natural  History  now  prosecuted  amongst 
us  with  the  keenest  ardour  and  success ;  and  that 
the  many  able  minds  engaged  in  it  are  becoming 
more  and  more  aware  that  their  favourite  pursuits 
have  a  far  higher  claim  to  regard  than  even  the 
direct  knowledge  which  they  bring,  and  the  per- 
sonal delight  they  afford;  that  they  invigorate 
both  mind  and  body,  tranquillize  the  passions,  and 
elevate  the  heart  above  all  worldliness.  The  pre- 
sent tone  of  such  works  is  admirable  and  ani- 
mating. 

And  now,  as  I  close  these  remarks,  let  me  say, 
that  if  I  could  but  arouse  in  other  minds  that 
ardent  and  ever-growing  love  of  the  beautiful 
works  of  God  in  the  creation  which  I  feel  in 
myself, — if  I  could  but  make  it  in  others  what  it 
has  been  to  me, 

The  nurse, 

The  guide,  the  guardian  of  my  heart,  and  soul 
Of  all  my  moral  being ; 

if  I  could  open  to  any  the  mental  eye  which  can 
never  be  again  closed,  but  which  finds  more  and 
more  clearly  revealed  before  it,  beauty,  wisdom, 
and  peace,  in  the  splendours  of  the  heavens,  in  the 
majesty  of  seas  and  mountains,  in  the  freshness  of 
winds,  the  ever-changing  lights  and  shadows  of  fail- 
landscapes,  the  solitude  of  heaths,  the  radiant  face 
of  bright  lakes,  and  the  solemn  depths  of  woods ; 
then  indeed  should  I  rejoice.  Oh !  that  I  could  but 
touch  a  thousand  bosoms  with  that  melancholy 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER.  XX111 

which  often  visits  mine,  when  I  behold  little  chil- 
dren endeavouring  to  extract  amusement  from  the 
very  dust,  and  straws,  and  pebbles  of  squalid  alleys, 
shut  out  from  the  free  and  glorious  countenance 
of  Nature,  and  think  how  differently  the  children 
of  the  peasantry  are  passing  the  golden  hours  of 
childhood  ;  wandering  with  bare  heads  and  unshod 
feet  perhaps,  but  singing  a  "  childish  wordless  me- 
lody," through  vernal  lanes,  or  prying  into  a  thou- 
sand sylvan,  leafy  nooks,  by  the  liquid  music  of 
running  waters,  amidst  the  fragrant  heath,  or  on 
the  flowery  lap  of  the  meadow,  occupied  with 
winged  wonders  without  end.  Oh  !  that  I  could 
but  baptize  every  heart  with  the  sympathetic  feel- 
ing of  what  the  city  pent  child  is  condemned  to 
lose;  how  blank,  and  poor,  and  joyless  must  be 
the  images  which  fill  its  infant  bosom  to  that  of 
the  country  one,  whose  mind 

Will  be  a  mansion  for  all  lovely  forms, 
His  memory  be  a  dwelling-place 
For  all  sweet  sounds  and  harmonies ! 

I  feel,  however,  an  animating  assurance  that  Nature 
will  exert  a  perpetually  increasing  influence,  not 
only  as  a  most  fertile  source  of  pure  and  substan- 
tial pleasures, — pleasures  which,  unlike  many  others, 
produce,  instead  of  satiety,  desire ;  but  also  as  a 
great  moral  agent;  and  what  effects  I  anticipate 
from  this  growing  taste  may  be  readily  inferred, 
when  I  avow  it  as  one  of  the  most  fearless  articles 
of  my  creed,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  man, 


XXIV  INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 

in  whom  its  power  is  once  firmly  established,  to 
become  utterly  debased  in  sentiment  or  abandoned 
in  principle.  His  soul  may  be  said  to  be  brought 
into  habitual  union  with  the  Author  of  Nature ; 

Haunted  for  ever  by  the  Eternal  Mind. 


JANUARY. 


By  his  commandment  he  maketh  the  snow  to  fall  apace,  and  sendeth 
swiftly  the  lightnings  of  his  judgment. 

Through  this  the  treasures  are  opened  and  clouds  fly  forth  as  fowls. 

By  his  great  power  he  maketh  the  clouds  firm  and  the  hailstones 
are  broken  small. 

At  his  sight  the  mountains  are  shaken,  and  at  his  will  the  north 
wind  bloweth. 

The  noise  of  the  thunder  maketh  the  earth  to  tremble,  so  doth  the 
northern  storm  and  the  whirlwind;  as  birds  flying  he  scattereth  the 
snow,  and  the  falling  down  thereof  is  as  the  lighting  of  grasshoppers. 

The  eye  marvelleth  at  the  beauty  of  the  whiteness  thereof,  and  the 
heart  is  astonished  at  the  raining  of  it. 

The  hoar  frost  also  as  salt  he  poureth  on  the  earth,  and  being  con- 
gealed it  lieth  on  the  top  of  sharp  stakes. 

When  the  cold  north  wind  bloweth,  and  the  water  is  congealed  into 
ice,  it  abideth  upon  every  gathering  together  of  water,  and  clotheth 
the  water  as  with  a  breastplate. 

It  devoureth  the  mountains,  and  burneth  the  wilderness,  and  con- 
sumeth  the  grass  as  fire. 

ECCLESIASTICUS,  xliii.  13-21. 


THE  solar  year  commences  in  the  very  depth  of 
winter ;  and  I  open  my  record  of  its  various  aspects 
under  that  of  its  unmitigated  austerity.  I  speak  now 
as  I  intend  to  speak,  generally.  I  describe  the  sea- 
son not  as  it  may  be  in  this,  or  another  year,  but  as 
it  is  in  the  average.  December  may  be,  I  think, 
very  justly  styled  the  gloomiest,  January  the  seve- 
3 


26  JANUARY. 


rest,  and  February  the  most  cheerless  month  of  the 
year.  In  December  the  days  become  shorter  and 
shorter;  a  dense  mass  of  vapour  floats  above  us, 
wrapping  the  world  in  a  constant  and  depressing 
gloomy  ; 

,<Z7  f        r 


-  Murky  night  soon  follows  hazy  noon. 

BLOOMFIELD. 


In  January  this  mantle  of  brumal  sadness  some- 
what dissipates,  as  if  a  new  year  had  infused  new 
hope  and  vigour  into  the  earth;  light  is  not  only 
more  plentifully  diffused,  but  we  soon  perceive  its 
longer  daily  abode  with  us ;  yet  in  the  words  of  the 
common  adage, 

As  the  day  lengthens, 
The  cold  strengthens. 

This  is  the  month  of  abundant  snows  and  all  tne 
intensity  of  frost.  Yet  winter,  even  in  its  severest 
forms,  brings  so  many  scenes  and  circumstances 
with  it  to  interest  the  heart  of  the  lover  of  Nature 
and  of  his  fellow-creatures,  that  it  never  ceases  to 
be  a  subject  of  delightful  observation  ;  and  mono- 
tonous as  it  is  frequently  called,  the  very  variety 
of  the  weather  itself  presents  an  almost  endless 
source  of  novelty  and  beauty.  There  is  first  what 
is  called 

A  GREAT  STORM.  Frost, — keen,  biting  frost,  is 
in  the  ground;  and  in  the  air,  a  bitter,  scythe- 
edged,  perforating  wind  from  the  north, — or,  what 
is  worse,  the  northeast, — sweeps  the  descending 


JANUARY.  27 

snow  along,  whirling  it  from  the  open  fields,  and 
driving  it  against  whatever  opposes  its  course. 
People  who  are  obliged  to  be  passing  to  and  fro 
muffle  up  their  faces,  and  bow  their  heads  to  the 
blast.  There  is  no  loitering,  no  street-gossiping, 
no  stopping  to  make  recognition  of  each  other ; 
they  shuffle  along,  the  most  winterly  objects  of  the 
scene,  bearing  on  their  fronts  the  tokens  of  the 
storm.  Against  every  house,  rock,  or  bank,  the 
snow-drift  accumulates.  It  curls  over  the  tops  of 
walls  and  hedges  in  fantastic  wildness,  forming 
often  the  most  perfect  curves,  resembling  the  scrolls 
of  Ionic  capitals,  and  showing  beneath  romantic 
caves  and  canopies.  Hollow  lanes,  pits,  and  bogs 
now  become  traps  for  unwary  travellers ;  the  snow 
filling  them  up,  and  levelling  all  to  one  deceitful 
plain.  It  is  a  dismal  time  for  the  traversers  of 
wide  and  open  heaths ;  and  one  of  toil  and  danger 
to  the  shepherd  in  mountainous  tracts.  There  the 
snows  fall  in  amazing  quantities  in  the  course  of  a 
few  hours,  and,  driven  by  the  powerful  winds  of 
those  lofty  regions,  soon  fill  up  the  dells  and  glens 
to  a  vast  depth,  burying  the  flocks  and  houses  too, 
in  a  brief  space.  In  some  winters  the  sheep  of 
extensive  ranges  of  country,  much  cattle,  and 
many  of  the  inhabitants,  have  perished  beneath 
the  snow-drifts.  At  the  moment  in  which  I  am 
writing,  accounts  from  Scotland  appear  in  the 
newspapers  of  a  most  tremendous  snow-storm, 
which,  leaving  the  country  southward  of  Alnwick 
and  Gretna-Green  nearly  free,  has  buried  all  north- 


28  JANUARY. 

ward  of  that  line,  in  a  vast  fall  of  snow,  sweeping 
across  the  country  even  to  the  shores  of  the  Irish 
Channel.  The  mails  are  stopped,  the  snow-drifts  in 
many  places  are  stated  to  be  twenty-five  feet  deep, 
and  great  numbers  of  sheep  have  perished  beneath 
them, — one  farmer  having  dug  out  one  hundred 
and  fifty  in  one  place,  all  dead.  Hogg,  the  highly- 
gifted  Ettrick  Shepherd,  one  of  the  most  splendid 
specimens  of  the  peasant-poet,  has  given  in  his 
"  Shepherd's  Calendar"  some  exceedingly  interest- 
ing details  of  such  events. 

The  delights  of  the  social  hearth  on  such  even- 
ings as  these,  when  the  wild  winds  are  howling 
around  our  dwellings,  dashing  the  snow,  or  hail,  or 
splashing  rain  against  our  windows,  are  a  favourite 
theme  with  poets,  essayists,  and  writers  on  the 
Seasons.  And  truly  it  is  an  inspiring  topic.  All 
our  ideas  of  comfort,  of  domestic  affection,  of 
social  and  literary  enjoyment,  are  combined  in  the 
picture  they  draw  of  the  winter  fireside.  How 
often  have  those  lines  of  Cowper  been  quoted, 
commencing, 

Now  stir  the  fire  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 
Let  fall  the  curtain,  wheel  the  sofa  round, 
And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud-hissing  urn 
Throws  up  a  steamy  column,  and  the  cups, 
Which  cheer  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each, 
So  let  us  welcome  peaceful  evening  in. 

Such  is  the  BRITISH  FIRESIDE  !  and  we  love  to 
hear  our  writers  speaking  of  its  pleasures  in  strains 


JANUARY.  29 

of  enthusiasm.  But  we  may  expand  the  picture. 
We  may  add  to  the  zest  of  its  personal,  and  almost 
too  selfish  enjoyments,  touches  of  generous  and  phi- 
lanthropic sentiment  which  will  signally  heighten 
its  pleasures,  and  enlarge  its  power  of  improving 
the  heart.  How  delightful,  whilst  sitting  in  the 
midst  of  our  family,  or  friendly  group,  in  actual 
possession  of  the  pleasures  just  enumerated,  not 
only  to  contemplate  our  own  happiness,  but  to  send 
our  thoughts  abroad  over  the  whole  land  !  To 
think  what  thousands  of  families  in  this  noble  coun- 
try are  at  the  same  moment  thus  blessedly  collected 
round  the  social  flame.  What  hearths  are  lit  up 
with  all  the  charms  of  kindred  affection;  of  mature 
wisdom  and  parental  pride ;  of  youthful  gladness, 
gaiety  and  beauty  !  How  many  rural  halls  and 
city  homes  are  shining,  like  stars  in  their  own 
places,  in  unabated  warmth  and  splendour,  though 
hid  beneath  the  broad  veil  of  wintry  darkness, — 
the  lover's  evening  visit, — song,  wine,  the  wild  tale 
told  to  the  listening  circle,  or  the  unfolded  stores 
of  polite  literature,  making  each  a  little  paradise  ! 
Then  to  turn  from  the  bright  side  of  the  picture  to 
the  dark  one.  To 

The  huts  where  poor  men  lie, 

where  the  elegances  and  amenities  of  life  cast  not 
their  glow, 

But  frosty  winds  blaw  in  the  drift 
Ben  to  the  chimla  lug, 
3* 


30  JANUARY. 

upon  shivering  groups  who  have  but  little  defence 
of  fire  or  clothing  from  its  bitterness.  Where  no 
light  laugh  rings  through  the  room  ;  no  song  is 
heard;  no  romantic  tale  or  mirthful  conversation 
circles  amongst  smiling  faces  and  happy  hearts, 
but  the  father, 

111  satisfied  keen  nature's  clamorous  call, 

Stretch'd  on  his  straw  himself  lays  down  to  sleep, 

While  through  the  rugged  roof  and  chinky  wall, 
Chill  on  his  slumbers  piles  the  drifty  heap. 

BURNS. 

Where  the  mother  sees  not  her  rosy  and  laughing 
children  snugly  consigned  to  their  warm  soft  beds ; 
but  contemplates  with  a  heart  deadened  with  the 
miseries  of  to-day,  and  the  fears  of  to-morrow,  a 
sad  little  squalid  crew  around  her,  who,  instead  of 
pleasures  and  pastimes,  know  only  wants  and  evils 
which  dwarf  both  body  and  soul.  Where,  perhaps, 
illness  has  superadded  its  aggravations,  its  pains, 
and  languors,  to  a  poverty  which  renders  the  com- 
forts and  indulgences  of  a  sick  room  the  most  hope- 
less of  all  things.  These  are  the  speculations  to 
enhance  our  fireside  pleasures,  and  to  make  those 
pleasures  fruitful;  linking  our  sympathies  to  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  our  kind,  and  arousing  us  to  a 
course  of  active  benevolence. 

To  proceed,  however,  to  the  varieties  of  wintry 
weather,  this  month  more  than  all  others  shows  us 

THE  CONTINUED  FROST — a  frost  that,  day  after 
day,  and  week  after  week,  makes  a  steady  abode 


JANUARY.  31 

with  us,  till  the  beaten  roads  become  dusty  as  in 
summer.  It  every  day  penetrates  deeper  into  the 
earth,  and  farther  into  our  houses;  almost  verifying 
the  common  saying,  "January  will  freeze  the  pot 
upon  the  fire."  Our  windows  in  the  morning  are 
covered  with  a  fine  opaque  frost-work,  resembling 
the  leaves  and  branches  of  forest-trees,  and  the 
water  is  frozen  in  the  ewer.  The  fish  in  ponds, 
reservoirs,  and  shallow  waters,  now  suffer  from 
their  being  frozen  over,  and  great  numbers  perish. 
In  many  places  you  may  see  them  moving  under 
the  ice,  seeking  some  access  to  air  or  food;  in 
others,  firmly  embedded  in  the  ice,  their  bright 
and  silvery  sides  shining  through  it.  In  dikes  and 
small  streams,  or  pools,  boys  have  great  sport  in 
breaking  the  ice  and  drawing  out  these  poor  frozen 
creatures.  I  have  seen,  on  such  occasions,  eels 
and  other  fish  of  a  considerable  size  taken  out ; 
and  I  have  seen,  too,  fishes  frozen  up  in  solid  ice, 
and  apparently  dead,  on  being  gradually  thawed 
recover  their  animation.  The  small  birds  are  hop- 
ping, with  half-erected  feathers,  upon  our  door-sills, 
driven  to  seek  relief  from  creation's  tyrants  by  the 
still  more  pressing  tyranny  of  cold  and  famine. 
The  destruction  of  birds,  and  of  all  the  smaller 
animals,  in  a  continued  frost,  is  immense,  particu- 
larly if  it  be  accompanied  by  snow.  Snow  is  a 
general  informer,  betraying  the  footsteps  of  every 
creature,  great  and  small.  The  poacher  and  the 
gamekeeper  are  equally  on  the  alert  while  it  lies 
freshly  upon  the  ground,  the  one  to  track  game, 


32  JANUARY. 

the  other  vermin ;  and  thousands  of  polecats,  wea- 
sels, stoats,  rats,  otters,  badgers,  and  similar  little 
nightly  depredators,  are  traced  to  their  hiding- 
places  in  old  buildings,  banks,  and  hollow  trees, 
and  marked  for  certain  destruction.  The  poacher, 
particularly  on  moonlight  nights,  makes  havoc  with 
game.  Partridges,  nestled  down  in  a  heap  on  the 
stubble,  are  conspicuous  objects ;  and  hares,  driven 
for  food  to  gardens  and  turnip-fields,  are  destroyed 
by  hundreds.  Wood-pigeons  are  killed  in  great 
numbers  on  cabbage  and  turnip-fields  by  day ;  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  large  woods,  where  they 
abound,  the  farmers'  boys  set  steel-traps  for  them 
in  the  snow,  laying  a  cabbage-leaf  on  each  trap,  to 
which  they  fly  eagerly,  and  are  abundantly  cap- 
tured ;  and  by  moonlight  they  are  shot  in  the  trees 
where  they  roost.  Larks  frequent  stubbles  in  vast 
flocks,  and  are  destroyed  by  gun  or  net.  Immense 
numbers  of  these  delightful  songsters  are  sent, 
during  the  winter  months,  from  the  neighbourhood 
of  Dunstable  to  London,  and  may  be  seen  by 
basketsfull  at  the  poulterers'.  When  they  have 
congregated  in  flocks  on  the  approach  of  winter, 
they  arrive  in  that  neighbourhood  lean  and  feeble ; 
but  they  soon  become  strong  and  in  good  condition, 
being  supposed  to  pick  up  fine  particles  of  chalk 
with  their  food.  They  are  in  season  from  Michael- 
mas to  February ;  and  are  not  only  served  up  at  the 
inns  in  that  town,  by  a  secret  process  of  cookery, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  regarded  by  travellers  as 
a  peculiar  luxury,  but  are  thence  sent,  by  a  particu- 


JANUARY. 


lar  contrivance  of  package,  ready  dressed  to  all 
parts  of  England.  There  is  an  account,  illustrated 
by  an  engraving,  in  the  second  volume  of  Hone's 
"  Every-Day  Book,"  of  a  singular  mode  of  killing 
larks,  at  this  season,  in  some  parts  of  France  and 
England. 

In  France  they  use  what  is  called  a  miroir,  or 
twirler.  This  is  a  piece  of  mahogany  highly  po- 
lished, or  a  piece  of  common  wood  with  bits  of 
looking-glass  fixed  in  it.  It  is  fixed  on  an  upright 
spindle,  and  twirled  by  pulling  a  string ;  and  the 
larks,  as  they  fly  over,  seeing  the  glitter  of  it,  are 
irresistibly  attracted  by  it,  hover  over  it,  and  are 
shot  in  abundance.  However  frequently  shot  at, 
the  survivors  still  are  attracted  by  the  twirler. 
Hone's  correspondent  says  that  a  friend  of  his  shot 
six  dozen  before  breakfast,  without  a  boy,  as  is  the 
common  plan,  to  pull  the  twirler  for  him  ;  and  that 
it  is  not  only  the  great  amusement  of  the  gentlemen 
in  France  in  winter,  but  that  ladies  on  fine,  dry, 
frosty  mornings  go  out  in  numbers  to  watch  this 
sport ;  and  as  many  as  ten  or  a  dozen  parties  are, 
at  one  time,  firing  about  five  hundred  yards  apart, 
and  yet  the  larks  continue  coming. 

In  England  the  Dunstable  people  have  a  similar 
invention,  which  is  called  a  larking-glass,  which  is 
fixed  on  a  pole  and  twirled,  and  the  larks  corne 
darting  down  to  it  in  great  numbers,  and  a  net  is 
drawn  over  them.  Besides  great  quantities  being 
thus  taken,  and  also  morning  and  evening  with 
trammelling  nets,  others  in  severe  weather  are 


34  JANUARY. 

taken  by  laying  a  train  of  corn  and  chaff  in  the 
snow,  and  placing  along  it  a  line  to  which  is  fas- 
tened, at  certain  intervals,  nooses  of  horse-hair,  in 
which  their  feet  are  entangled. 

As  if  the  feathered  race  did  not  suffer  enough 
from  famine  and  the  severity  of  the  weather,  every 
body  seems  now  tip  in  arms  against  them.  The 
law,  with  a  spirit  of  humanity  honourable  to  4he 
nation,  is  opposed  to  tracking  game  in  a  snow;  yet 
this  is  a  time  of  peculiar  -enjoyment  to  the  sports- 
man. Waterfowl  are  driven  from  their  secluded 
haunts  in  meres  and  marshes  to  open  streams; 
snipes  and  woodcocks  to  springs  and  small  run- 
nels ;  where  they  become  accessible,  and  easily 
found.  In  towns  and  villages,  every  mechanic  and 
raw  lad  is  seen  marching  forth  with  his  gun  to  slay 
his  quota  of  redwings,  fieldfares,  etc.  which  now 
become  passive  from  cold  and  hunger.  Let  all 
good  people,  who  value  their  persons,  keep  at  a 
distance  from  suburban  hedges;  for  such  sportsman 
is  sure  to  pop  at  every  bird  which  comes  before 
him,  be  it  sparrow,  tomtit,  or  robin-redbreast ;  no- 
thing comes  amiss  to  him,  and  nothing  does  he 
think  of  but  his  mark.  Many  an  eye  has  been 
lost;  many  a  cow,  horse,  and  sheep,  has  felt  the 
sharp  salutation  of  his  desperate  shot,  and  shall  do 
again ;  for  if  the  public  does  not  take  warning,  he 
will  not.  In  farm-yards,  trains  of  corn  are  laid, 
and  scores  of  sparrows,  finches,  etc.  are  slaugh- 
tered at  a  shot.  Even  the  schoolboy  is  bent  upon 
their  destruction.  His  trap,  made  of  four  bricks 


JANUARY.  35 

and  a  few  pegs,  is  to  be  seen  in  every  garden,  and 
under  every  rick ;  and  with  a  sieve,  a  stick,  and  a 
string,  drawn  through  a  window  or  keyhole,  he  is 
standing  ready  to  pounce  upon  them.  Not  even 
night,  with  its  deepest  shades,  can  protect  them  at 
this  cruel  time.  They  are  roused  from  their  slum- 
bers in  the  sides  of  warm  stacks  by  a  sieve  or  a 
net,  fixed  upon  a  pole,  being  clapped  before  them. 
Those  which  roost  in  hedges  and  copses  are  aroused 
by  beating  the  trees  and  bushes,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  are  dazzled  with  the  glare  of  a  torch,  and, 
flying  instinctively  towards  the  light,  are  knocked 
down  and  secured.  This  is  called  in  some  counties 
bird-moping;  and  in  this  manner  are  destroyed 
great  numbers  of  pheasants,  thrushes,  blackbirds, 
besides  innumerable  small  birds.  With  all  these 
enemies,  and  these  various  modes  of  destruction,  it 
is  only  surprising  that  the  race  is  not  extirpated. 

One  of  the  pleasures  of  frosty  weather  will  be 
found  in  walking.  The  clear  and  bracing  air 
invigorates  the  frame;  exercise  gives  a  delightful 
glow  to  the  blood,  and  the  mind  is  held  in  pleasing 
attention  to  the  phenomena  and  features  of  the  sea- 
son. Every  sound  comes  to  the  ear  with  a  novel 
and  surprising  distinctness — the  low  of  cattle ;  the 
rattle  of  far-off  wheels;  the  hollow  tread  of  ap- 
proaching feet ;  and  the  merry  voices,  of  sliders  and 
skaters,  who  are  pursuing  their  healthful  amusement 
upon  every  sheet  of  unruffled  ice.  In  towns,  how- 
ever, walking  is  none  of  the  safest.  From  time 
immemorial  boys  have  used  it  as  an  especial  privi- 


36  JANUARY. 

lege  of  theirs  to  make  slides  upon  every  causeway, 
maugre  the  curses  and  menacing  canes  of  old  gen- 
tlemen, and  the  certain  production  of  falls,  bruises, 
and  broken  bones.  Sometimes,  too,  rain  freezing 
as  it  falls,  or  a  sudden  thaw,  and  as  sudden  a  re- 
freezing,  covers  the  whole  ground  with  a  sheet  of 
the  most  glassy  ice.  Such  a  frost  occurred  in  1811, 
when  great  numbers  of  birds  were  caught,  and 
amongst  them  several  bustards,  their  wings  being 
glazed  to  their  sides,  and  their  feet  to  the  ground. 
But  of  all  the  phenomena  of  winter,  none  equals  in 
beauty 

THE  HOAR  FROST.  A  dense  haze  most  commonly 
sets  in  over-night,  which  has  vanished  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  left  a  clear  atmosphere,  and  a  lofty  arch  of 
sky  of  the  deepest  and  most  diaphanous  blue,  beam- 
ing above  a  scene  of  enchanting  beauty.  Every 
tree,  bush,  twig,  and  blade  of  grass,  from  the  utmost 
nakedness  has  put  on  a  pure  and  feathery  garniture, 
which  appears  the  work  of  enchantment,  and  has 
all  the  air  and  romantic  novelty  of  a  fairy  land. 
Silence  and  purity  are  thrown  over  the  earth  as  a 
mantle.  The  hedges  are  clothed  in  a  snowy  foliage, 
thick  as  their  summer  array.  The  woods  are  filled 
with  a  silent  splendour ;  the  dark  boles  here  and 
there  contrasting  strongly  with  the  white  and  spark- 
ling drapery  of  the  boughs  above,  amongst  which 
the  wandering  birds  fly,  scattering  the  rime  around 
them  in  snowy  showers.  There  is  not  a  thicket  but 
has  assumed  a  momentary  aspect  of  strange  loveli- 
ness ;  and  the  mind  is  more  affected  by  it  from  its 


JANUARY.  37 

suddenness  of  creation,  and  the  consciousness  of  its 
speedy  departure : — for  hoar  frosts  and  gipsies  are 
said  never  to  remain  nine  days  in  a  place, — the 
former,  indeed,  seldom  continue  three  days. 

In  this  most  fierce  and  inhospitable  of  all  months, 
besides  the  beautiful  features  we  have  already  noted, 
we  are  ever  and  anon  presented  with  momentary 
smiles  and  isolated  instances  of  vegetable  life,  which 
come,  as  it  were,  to  keep  the  heart  from  withering 
amidst  the  despondency  of  this  season  of  deadness. 
The  Helleborus  niger,  or  Christmas  Rose,  expands 
its  handsome  white  chalices,  undaunted  by  the 
sharpest  frosts,  and  blooms  amidst  overwhelming 
wreaths  of  snow  long  before  that  poetical  and 
popular  favourite,  the  Snowdrop,  dares  to  emerge 
from  its  shrouding  earth. 

Mild  and  even  sunny  days  sometimes  break  the 
sullen  monotony  of  January,  which  the  country 
people  look  upon  less  with  a  pleased  than  a  fore- 
boding eye,  denominating  them  weather-breeders. 
Whilst  they  are  present,  however,  whatever  conse- 
quences they  may  be  chargeable  with,  they  are 
extremely  grateful.  Gnats  will  even  be  seen  to 
issue  from  their  secret  dormitories,  to  dance  in  the 
long  withheld  rays  of  the  sun.  I  have  seen  the 
leaves  of  the  primrose  shooting  up  vigorously  be- 
neath the  warm  hedges  at  such  times ;  and  moles, 
feeling  the  ground  released  from  its  frosty  bondage, 
begin  to  burrow  and  throw  up  their  heaps  of  fresh 
and  crumbly  mould. 

It  is  well  that  I  said  that  I  do  not  attempt  to 
4 


38  JAXUABY. 

describe  any  particular  season,  but  speak  of  them 
generally;  for  it  is  a  subject  of  universal  wonder 
that  our  old-fashioned  winters,  such  as  I  have  here 
depicted,  are  quite  gone.  With  the  exception  of 
1829  and  1830,  we  have  not  had  a  severe  winter 
for  many  years.  For  the  last  twenty  years  the 
winters  have  been  progressively  getting  milder  and 
more  open.  We  have  not  had  those  long-conti- 
nued frosts — deep,  lane-filling,  hedge-burying  snows, 
which  we  had  formerly.  Skates  have  almost  be- 
come obsolete ;  snow-balling  is  quite  traditional ; 
and  the  stopping  of  the  mails  by  the  drifts,  a  won- 
derful occurrence.  Old  Mother  Shipton's  prophecy, 
that  summer  shall  only  be  distinguished  from  winter 
by  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  seems  fast  coming  upon 
us.  Many  are  the  speculations  of  the  weather-wise 
on  the  causes  of  this  :  with  one,  it  is  the  breaking- 
up  of  the  ice  in  the  polar  regions — with  another,  the 
decrease  of  the  American  forests — with  a  third,  the 
increased  population  and  cultivation  of  Europe — 
with  others,  the  approach  of  a  comet ;  though  John 
Evelyn  tells  us  that  a  comet  and  the  great  frost  in 
his  time,  when  the  Thames  was  frozen  over  and  a 
fair  held  on  it,  came  together.  The  fact  is,  the 
knowing  ones  are  completely  thrown  out— they 
cannot  tell  how  it  happens ;  and  ere  long,  we  may 
probably  find  ourselves,  with  as  little  apparent  rea- 
son, in  the  midst  of  the  old  winters  again.  Even 
while  I  am  now  writing,  (January  7th,  1835,)  the 
frost  which  set  in  on  New-year's  Day  has  continued 
with  a  rigour  and  an  aspect  that  promises  a  tole- 


JANUARY.  39 

rable  continuance.  So  far  in  the  last  edition ;  and 
the  winters  of  1836-7  and  1837-8  amply  fulfilled 
the  rigorous  promises  then  given.  The  chill  which 
is  said  to  follow  the  appearance  of  a  comet,  cer- 
tainly has  followed  the  appearance  of  that  of  Halley 
in  1835.  The  winter  of  1836-7,  with  its  truly  old- 
fashioned  snows,  will  long  be  remembered  by  those 
who  witnessed  it.  The  stoppage  of  mails,  and  the 
burial  of  numbers  of  them  for  many  days  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  kingdom,  excited  too  much  interest 
to  be  readily  forgotten.  It  was  curious  to  see  them 
coming  into  London,  covered  with  frozen  snow,  and 
bearing  every  evidence  of  having  been  dug  out  of 
the  drifts ;  and  to  see  the  running  of  the  eager 
crowds  to  learn  the  particulars.  But  if  the  winter 
of  1836-7  was  excessively  snowy,  that  of  1837-8 
was  fiercely  cold  and  miserably  long.  The  Thames, 
and  the  other  principal  rivers  of  England,  once  more 
presented  the  phenomenon  of  being  frozen  over.  A 
wilder  scene  cannot  be  imagined  than  was  shown 
on  the  Thames  at  the  breaking  up  of  this  long  frost, 
immense  blocks  of  ice  being  driven  one  upon  an- 
other above  the  bridges,  and  exhibiting  a  desolate 
and  frozen  chaos  more  consonant  to  our  ideas  of 
the  polar  regions  than  of  the  English  climate.  The 
suddenness  of  the  setting  in  of  this  great  frost,  also, 
was  as  startling  to  our  fancies  and  destructive  to 
vegetable  life.  From  Christmas  to  the  opening  of 
January,  1838,  the  weather  was  deliciously  mild. 
It  was  like  the  opening  of  May  rather  than  the  depth 
of  winter.  The  birds  were  singing ;  the  bees  at 


40  JANUARY. 

work  ;  many  flowers  were  blowing  in  the  gardens, 
as  anemones,  wall-flowers,  primroses ;  and  the 
monthly  roses  thickly  crimsoned  the  walls  of  our 
cottages.  Birds'  nests  were  found  in  various  places, 
not  only  with  eggs  but  with  young  ones,  as  that  of 
a  thrush  at  Cobham  in  Surrey.  In  one  savage  night 
(the  7th  of  January),  all  this  delusive  and  unseason- 
able pride  of  nature  was  demolished  by  a  tremen- 
dous frost.  Every  thing  which  the  day  before  had 
worn  a  blossoming  aspect,  now  hung  down  its  head 
in  death  and  ruin.  The  flowers  stood  dismal  objects 
of  blackness  and  deformity.  When,  after  six  weeks 
of  unmitigated  fury  of  frost,  spring  began  to  give 
tardy  and  timid  intimations  of  return,  it  was  only 
to  discover  the  extent  of  vegetable  devastation  which 
had  taken  place.  Never,  perhaps,  had  so  extensive 
a  destruction  of  evergreens  occurred.  The  warmth 
of  the  weather  up  to  the  very  night  of  the  frost 
setting  in,  by  occasioning  a  free  flow  of  sap,  had 
made  this  destruction  inevitable ;  and  in  low  and 
warm  situations  scarcely  a  laurel  or  a  bay  was  left 
alive  above  ground.  In  higher  and  colder  situations 
many  escaped  ;  but  for  the  most  part  it  was  neces- 
sary to  cut  down  and  clear  away  the  whole  ever- 
green growth  of  the  last  forty  years.  In  our  own 
shrubbery,  bays,  laurels,  and  arbutuses  of  that  age 
were  destroyed ;  thus  bearing  testimony  that  for  this 
period  they  had  not  experienced  the  same  excessive 
and  sudden  change.  What  appeared  singular  at  the 
time  was,  that  branches  of  evergreen  shrubs,  which 
were  cut  off  and  lay  under  the  snow,  were  not  appa- 


JANUARY.  41 

rently  injured,  while  those  on  the  trees  themselves 
were  killed.  The  same  was  the  case  with  a  quantity 
of  rose-trees  which  were  left  by  accident  out  of  the 
ground  in  our  own  garden  all  that  frost ;  they  were 
not  killed,  but  on  being  planted  at  spring  grew  again 
freely,  while  their  fellows  in  the  ground  were  utterly 
destroyed.  The  reason  was,  that  in  one  case  the 
flow  of  the  sap  had  been  gradually  checked  by  their 
being  taken  up,  while  in  the  other  it  was  in  full 
activity  at  the  moment  of  seizure  by  the  frost.  The 
fact  of  the  branches  of  evergreens  cut  off  and  lying 
under  the  snow  not  being  injured,  while  the  trees 
themselves  in  the  ground  perished,  would  seem  to 
contradict  a  statement  in  the  succeeding  page  ;  but 
their  preservation  was  owing  to  the  covering  of 
snow. 


Our  Saxon  ancestors  termed  this  month  Aefter- 
yula,  or  After-Christmas.  The  Greeks  called  it 
Anthesterion,  or,  the  Flowery,  from  the  quantity  of 
flowers  used  at  the  feast  of  Bacchus  ;  but  our  pre- 
sent name  is  derived  from  the  Latin,  Janus,  door- 
keeper of  heaven,  and  god  of  peace ; — the  name, 
therefore,  indicates  that  it  is  the  gate  of  the  year, 
and  probably  has  reference  to  the  earth  in  this 
month  being  in  a  state  of  quiet  and  inactivity. 

One  of  the  things  which  is  most  deserving  of  our 
observation  at  this  season  is,  the  wisdom  of  Provi- 
dence displayed  in  the  provision  made  for  the  preser- 
vation of  all  vegetable  productions.  Seeds  are 
4* 


42  JANUARY. 

secure  in  the  earth,  or  in  the  care  of  man ;  herba- 
ceous plants  have  died  down  to  the  root,  which, 
secure  in  their  underground  retreat,  are  preparing 
their  fresh  shoots,  leaves,  and  flowers,  in  secret,  to 
burst  forth  at  spring  with  renewed  splendour.  But 
herbs  and  trees  which  are  exposed  to  all  the  severity 
of  the  open  air  are  not  the  less  safe ;  their  buds  com- 
pactly defended  by  a  strong  coat  of  resinous  matter, 
which  may  be  abundantly  seen  in  the  horse-chestnut 
at  the  time  of  its  unfolding,  and  moreover,  by  that 
vis  vitce  which  vegetables  as  well  as  animals  possess. 
This  last  wonderful  power  imparted  to  plants  by  our 
beneficent  Creator,  has  been  most  clearly  shown  by 
an  experiment  of  the  simplest  kind ;  one  which  any 
person  may  repeat.  A  bud  cut  off  in  a  sharp  frost, 
and  suspended  from  its  parent  tree  during  the  night, 
will  be  found  to  be  completely  frozen  through ;  while 
its  fellows,  still  upon  the  tree,  will  not  be  in  the  least 
injured.  This  will  be  the  case  even  if  the  severed 
bud  be  enclosed  in  a  glass,  and  perfectly  defended 
from  the  external  atmosphere.  This  property,  by 
which  buds,  consisting  of  leaves  firmly  wrapped 
together,  and  within  them  the  flowers,  in  fact,  all 
the  richness  and  glory  of  the  coming  year,  are  pre- 
served, cannot  be  sufficiently  admired. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month,  the  throstle  is 
seen  under  sunny  hedges  and  southern  walls  in  pur- 
suit of  snails,  which  he  destroys  in  abundance,  par- 
ticularly in  hard  winters  ;  he  delights  also  in  chrys- 
alids  and  worms.  Other  birds  now  quit  their  retreats 
in  search  of  food.  The  nuthatch  is  heard,  and  larks 


JANUARY.  43 

congregate  and  fly  to  the  warm  stubble  for  shelter. 
Sparrows,  yellowhammers,  and  chaffinches  crowd 
in  farm-yards,  and  attend  the  barn-door  to  pick  their 
scanty  fare  from  the  chaff  and  straw.  The  red- 
breast ventures  into  the  house. 

During  the  mild  weather  of  winter,  slugs  are  in 
constant  motion,  preying  on  plants  and  green  wheat. 
Their  coverings  of  slime  prevent  the  escape  of 
animal  heat,  and  hence  they  are  enabled  to  ravage 
when  their  brethren  of  the  shell  are  compelled  to 
lie  dormant.  Earth-worms  likewise  appear  about 
this  time ;  but  let  not  the  man  of  nice  order  be  too 
precipitate  in  destroying  them — they  are  the  under- 
gardeners  that  loosen  the  sub-soil,  and  have  their 
uses  in  conveying  away  superfluous  moisture,  and 
admitting  a  supply  of  air  to  the  roots  of  plants. 

The  hedge-sparrow  and  the  thrush  now  begin  to 
sing.  The  wren  also  pipes  her  perennial  lay,  even 
among  the  flakes  of  snow.  The  golden- crested 
wren,  from  its  diminutive  size  and  solitary  habits, 
is  not  often  noticed,  and  may  be  easily  overlooked ; 
but  it  is  very  abundant  where  there  are  plantations 
of  spruce-trees,  to  which  they  are  extremely  partial, 
hanging  their  nests  to  the  under-surface  of  the 
lower  branches.  Though  apparently  of  so  delicate 
a  nature,  they  remain  with  us  all  the  winter,  and 
appear  to  suffer  less  from  cold  than  many  even  of 
our  hard-billed  species. 

The  blackbird  whistles ;  the  titmouse  pulls  straws 
out  of  the  thatch,  in  search  of  insects ;  and  linnets 
congregate.  Pullets  begin  to  lay ;  young  lambs  are 


44  JANUARY. 

dropped  now  in  southern  counties,  but  the  more 
common  time  of  lambing  is  in  March.  The  field- 
fares, redwings,  skylarks,  and  titlarks  resort  to 
watered  meadows  for  food,  and  are,  in  part,  sup- 
ported by  the  gnats  which  are  on  the  snow  near  the 
water.  The  house-sparrow  chirps,  and  the  bat  is 
now  seen.  As  the  cold  grows  more  intense,  various 
kinds  of  sea-fowl  quit  the  bleak  open  shores,  and 
come  up  the  rivers,  where  they  offer  an  unusual  prey 
to  the  fowler. 

RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

The  most  important  business  of  the  farmer  this 
month,  is  to  feed  and  comfort  his  dependent  animals: 
his  cattle  in  their  stalls  and  straw-yards ;  his  sheep 
in  warm  and  sheltered  enclosures;  giving  them  hay, 
straw,  turnips,  etc. :  looking  well  after  his  flocks 
that  they  be  not  lost  in  snows  ;  and  in  forward  dis- 
tricts, as  in  the  neighbourhood  of  London,  housing 
and  carefully  feeding  young  lambs  and  calves  for 
the  market.  Bee-hives  require  to  be  examined,  and, 
if  necessary,  food  supplied.  This  may  be  done  by 
cutting  a  shoot  of  the  elder-tree  of  about  ten  inches 
long,  and  of  the  thickness  of  a  finger,  slicing  off 
one  side  of  it,  and  taking  out  the  pith,  so  as  to  form 
a  trough,  the  joints  of  the  shoot  being  left  to  form 
each  end.  This  must  be  filled  with  honey,  or,  in 
want  of  that,  with  sugar  and  beer,  or  sugar  and 
water,  of  the  same  consistency  as  honey,  and  gently 
thrust  into  the  mouth  of  the  hive.  The  bees  will 


JANUARY.  45 

come  down,  and  take  it  up ;  and  from  time  to  time 
the  trough  must  be  filled  afresh.  Many  persons  are 
in  the  habit  of  laying  honey  in  a  plate  near  the 
mouth  of  the  hive,  that  the  bees,  in  some  occasional 
hour  of  sunshine,  coming  out,  may  take  it ;  but  this 
is  not  only  a  very  inferior,  but  a  very  dangerous 
practice.  The  bees,  feeble  with  winter  cold,  and 
voracious  with  abstinence,  greedily  rush  into  the 
plate,  are  easily  entangled  in  the  liquid,  or  upset  by 
the  slightest  puff  of  air,  and  suffocated.  If  a  plate 
of  honey,  or  liquefied  sugar,  be  ever  placed  by  the 
hive,  it  should  be  covered  with  a  piece  of  writing- 
paper  snipped  full  of  small  holes,  through  which  the 
bees  may  suck  the  honey  without  danger ;  but  the 
elder  troughs  are  the  safest  and  most  effectual 
things. 

In  frosts,  fish-ponds  must  have  holes  broken  in  the 
ice,  to  allow  the  fish  the  necessary  air.  It  will  re- 
quire, too,  some  watchfulness  in  those  whose  ponds 
are  well  stocked,  to  prevent  their  being  robbed ;  for 
the  fish  will  come  up  to  the  holes  for  air,  and  are 
easily  taken  in  their  benumbed  state  with  the  hand. 
This  the  race  of  poachers  know  to  good  purpose. 
I  have  seen  a  few  grains  thrown  into  these  holes, 
and  the  fish  come  in  such  quantities  crowding  to 
them,  that  any  number  of  the  finest  might  be  selected 
and  taken  in  a  very  short  time.  Deer  in  parks  also 
require  the  fostering  care  of  man  to  supply  them 
with  hay,  branches  of  trees,  etc. ;  and  game  in  the 
woods  demand  frequently  the  same  attention.  Buck- 
wheat is  sown  in  the  corners  and  open  spaces  in 


46  JANUARY. 

woods,  as  it  bears  very  well  the  shade  of  trees,  and 
is  stacked  in  the  ridings  for  game.  In  other  places, 
corn  and  hempseed  are  given  them  in  seasons  of 
great  severity.  Thrashing  is  now  a  regular  employ- 
ment in  some  parts  of  the  country,  going  on  even 
by  candle-light.  Farming  implements  are  repaired ; 
drains,  ditches,  etc.  kept  open ;  manure  is  led  out ; 
and  in  particular  situations  in  favourable  weather, 
a  little  ploughing  is  done,  and  common  spring-wheat 
sown.  Fruit-trees  are  pruned  and  dug  round  ;  hop- 
grounds  trenched,  and  orchards  planted.  Timber  is 
felled,  and  stumps  and  roots  cut  up  to  burn.  Timber- 
trees  are  planted,  and  tree-seeds  sown. 

ANGLING. 

Most  fresh-water  fish  are  now  in  season,  except- 
ing trout ;  but  being  withdrawn  to  the  deepest 
places,  and  the  weather  being  generally  intensely 
cold,  the  water,  for  the  most  part/  frozen  over,  the 
angler  in  general  lies  by  for  better  days.  Keen 
sportsmen,  however,  will  be  on  the  watch  at  all 
times ;  and  grayling,  now  reckoned  excellent,  are 
sometimes  taken  in  the  middle  of  a  bright  day,  with 
a  grub,  or  even  with  a  small  fly,  two  descriptions  of 
which,  Cotton  says,  may  be  taken,  or  imitated,  the 
red-brown  and  bright  dun. 


JANUARY.  47 


MIGRATION  OF  BIRDS. 

The  Stork  in  the  heavens  knoweth  her  appointed  times ;  and  the 
Crane,  and  the  Turtle,  and  the  Swallow,  observe  the  time  of  their 
coming. 

JEREMIAH  viii.  7. 

No  living  creatures  which  enliven  our  landscape 
by  their  presence,  excite  a  stronger  sympathy  in  the 
lovers  of  nature,  than  migratory  birds.  The  full 
charm  of  change  and  variety  is  theirs.  They  make 
themselves  felt  by  their  occasional  absence;  and 
besides  this,  they  interest  the  imagination  by  that 
peculiar  instinct  which  is  to  them  chart  and  com- 
pass, directing  their  flight  over  continents  and  oceans 
to  that  one  small  spot  in  the  great  world  where 
Nature  has  prepared  for  their  reception ;  which  is 
pilot  and  captain,  warning  them  away,  calling  them 
back,  and  conducting  them  safely  on  their  passage  ; 
that  degree  of  mystery,  which  yet  hangs  over  their 
motions,  notwithstanding  the  anxious  perseverance 
with  which  naturalists  have  investigated  the  subject; 
and  all  the  lively  and  beautiful  associations  of  their 
cries,  and  forms,  and  habits,  and  resorts.  When  we 
think,  for  a  moment,  that  the  swallows,  martins,  and 
swifts,  which  sport  in  our  summer  skies,  and  become 
cohabitants  of  our  houses,  will  presently  be  dwelling 
in  the  heart  of  regions  which  we  long,  in  vain,  to 
know,  and  whither  our  travellers  toil,  in  vain,  to 
penetrate, — that  they  will  anon  affix  their  nests  to 
the  Chinese  pagoda,  the  Indian  temple,  or,  beneath 


48  JANUARY. 

the  equator,  to  the  palm-thatched  eaves  of  the 
African  hut ;  that  the  small  birds  which  populate 
our  summer  hedges  and  fields  will  quickly  spread 
themselves  with  the  cuckoo,  and  its  av ant- courier,  the 
wryneck,  over  the  warm  regions  beyond  the  pillars 
of  Hercules,  and  the  wilds  of  the  Levant,  of  Greece 
and  Syria ;  the  nightingale  will  be  serenading  in  the 
chestnut  groves  of  Italy,  and  the  rose-gardens  of 
Persia ;  that  the  thrush  and  the  fieldfare,  which 
share  our  winter,  will  pour  out  triumphant  music  in 
their  native  wastes,  in  the  sudden  summers  of  Scan- 
dinavia ;  that  even  some  of  the  wild  fowls  which 
frequent  our  winter  streams  will  return  with  the 
spring,  to  the  far  tracts  of  North  America ;  and 
when  we  call  to  our  imagination  the  desolate  rocks 
in  the  lonely  ocean,  the  craggy  and  misty  isles  of 
the  Orkneys  and  Shetlands,  where  others  congregate 
in  myriads ;  or  the  wild-swan,  which  sometimes 
pays  a  visit  to  our  largest  and  most  secluded  waters, 
re-winging  its  way  through  the  lofty  regions  of  the 
air  to  Iceland,  and  other  arctic  lands, — we  cannot 
avoid  feeling  how  much  poetry  is  connected  with 
these  wanderers  of  the  earth  and  air. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  mark  the  arrivals  and  de- 
partures of  this  class  of  birds,  in  their  respective 
months,  in  a  more  clear  and  complete  manner  than 
has  hitherto  been  done. 

No  migratory  birds  arrive  this  month,  if  we  ex- 
cept grosbeaks  and  silktails,  which  in  this,  as  in  the 
last,  occasionally  appear  in  very  severe  weather,  as 
well  as  flocks  of  Norway  spinks.  According  to 


JANUARY.  49 

Gilbert  White,  large  flocks  of  hen-chaffinches  like- 
wise appear  in  winter,  which  are  supposed  to  come 
from  the  continent.  This  singular  circumstance 
seems  difficult  of  solution. 

DEPARTURES. 

Clangula  glacialis,  Long-tailed  Pocher,  goes  Jan.  14,  comes  Dec.  20. 

Haunts,  lakes  and  shores. 
JNycora  fuligula,  Tufted  Pocher,  goes  Jan.  19,  comes  Dec.  15.    Shores 

and  fresh  meres. 
Mergus  Serrator,  Gray  Goosander,  goes  Jan.  20,  comes  Dec.  28th. 

Pools  and  fens. 
Coccothraustes  vulgaris,  Grosbeak,  goes  Jan.  20.  comes  Dec.  28.    Hilly 

fields — rare. 
Emberiza  nivalis,  Snowflake,  goes  Jan.  20,  comes  Dec.  28.    Mountains 

and  downs. 

THE    GARDEN. 

Gardens  are  amongst  the  most  delightful  things 
which  human  art  has  prepared  for  our  recreation 
and  refreshment.  To  say  nothing  of  the  common- 
places, that  a  garden  was  first  constructed  by  God 
himself, — that  in  the  shades  of  a  glorious  garden  our 
first  parents  were  placed  by  him, — that  our  Saviour 
delighted  to  walk  in  a  garden, — that  in  a  garden  he 
suffered  his  agony,  and  that  in  a  garden  he  was 
buried  ;  there  are  a  thousand  reasons  why  gardens 
should  be  highly  valued,  especially  by  those  who  are 
fond  of  the  country.  Lovers  of  nature  cannot 
always  stroll  abroad  to  those  beauties  and  delights 
which  lie  scattered  far  and  wide ;  the  physical  im- 
pediments of  time  and  space — the  severities  of  win- 
5 


50  JANUARY. 

ter,  the  dews,  the  hasty  storms,  and  the  strong  heats 
of  summer,  lie  between  them  and  their  enjoyment, 
especially  if  they  be  of  the  delicate  sex.  But  into 
a  garden — a  spot  into  which,  by  the  magical  power 
of  science,  taste,  and  adventurous  enterprise,  the 
sweetest  and  most  beautiful  vegetable  productions, 
not  only  of  our  own  country,  but  of  the  whole  globe, 
are  collected,  they  may  step  at  all  hours,  and  at  all 
seasons;  yes,  even  through  the  hours  of  night,  when 
many  glories  of  Nature  are  to  be  witnessed;  her 
sweetest  odours  are  poured  out ;  her  most  impres- 
sive and  balmy  quiet  is  sent  upon  earth.  There, 
fearless  of  any  "  pestilence  that  walks  in  darkness," 
the  gentlest  and  most  timid  creature  may  tread  the 
smooth  path  of  the  garden,  and  behold  all  the  calm 
pageantry  of  the  glittering  host  of  stars,  of  moon- 
light and  of  clouds.  The  bowers  of  a  good  modern 
garden  invite  us  from  the  fierce  heat  of  noon  to  the 
most  delicious  of  oratories,  in  dry  summer  eves,  to 
the  most  charming  place  of  social  enjoyment.  A 
garden,  with  all  its  accompaniments  of  bowers, 
secluded  seats,  shrubberies,  and  hidden  walks,  is  a 
concentration  of  a  thousand  pleasant  objects,  and 
the  field  of  a  multitude  of  animating  pursuits.  The 
rarest  beauties  of  the  vegetable  world  are  not  only 
there  congregated,  heightened  in  the  richness  and 
splendour  of  their  charms,  but  there  many  of  them 
are  actually  created. 

The  feeble  invalid  and  feebler  age,  they  who 
cannot  lay  hold  on  Nature  in  her  amplitude,  though 
they  may  anxiously  and  intensely  thirst  to  renew, 


JANUARY.  51 

on  heath  and  mountain,  the  enchantments  of  past 
days,  can  there  grasp  a  multitude  of  her  delights  at 
once.  The  sedentary  man, 

Secluded  but  not  buried,  and  with  song 
Cheering  his  days, 

there  finds  the  most  congenial  relaxation,  the  most 
restorative  exercise  ever  at  hand.  The  lover  of  all 
bright  hues  and  graceful  forms,  of  all  delicate  and 
spicy  aromas,  of  curious  processes  and  wonderful 
phenomena,  of  all  that  is  soothing  to  the  mind,  and 
pleasant  to  the  vision  and  the  taste,  there  walks  in 
a  fairy-land  of  his  own  creation.  There  the  sun 
shines  tempered  by  the  coolness  of  whispering 
branches ;  the  breeze  blows  softly,  charged  with 
fragrance;  the  dews  fall  to  refresh  and  awaken 
sleeping  odours,  and  birds  bring  from  their  wilder 
haunts  their  melodies.  To  the  fair  creature,  who, 
like  Eve,  is  a  lover  of  flowers,  what  a  perpetual 
source  of  affectionate  interest,  of  hopes  and  fears, 
and  speculations  of  delightful  labours,  cares,  and 
watchings,  is  found  in  a  garden !  Poets  have 
always  delighted  to  describe  their  favourite  heroines 
amid  the  amenities  of  gardens,  as  places  peculiarly 
accordant  with  the  grace  and  gentle  nature  of  wo- 
man. How  beautiful  is  that  passing  view  which 
Chaucer  gives  us  of  Emilia,  in  Palemon  and  Arcite  ! 

Emily  ere  day 

Arose  and  dress'd  herself  in  rich  array ; 
Fresh  as  the  month,  and  as  the  morning  fair, 
Adown  her  shoulders  fell  her  length  of  hair ; 


52  JANUARY. 

A  riband  did  the  braided  tresses  bind, 
The  rest  was  loose  and  wanton'd  in  the  wind. 
Aurora  had  but  newly  chased  the  night, 
And  purpled  o'er  the  sky  with  blushing  light, 
When  to  the  garden  walk  she  took  her  way, 
To  sport  and  trip  along  in  cool  of  day, 
And  offer  maiden  vows  in  honour  of  the  May. 
At  every  turn  she  made  a  little  stand, 
And  thrust  among  the  thorns  her  lily  hand 
To  draw  the  rose ;  and  every  rose  she  drew, 
She  shook  its  stalk,  and  brush'd  away  the  dew ; 
Then  party-colour  flowers  of  white  and  red 
She  wove,  to  make  a  garland  for  her  head : 
This  done,  she  sung  and  caroll'd  out  so  clear, 
Then  men  and  angels  might  rejoice  to  hear. 

But  how  much  more  beautiful  is  Milton's  picture  of 
our  first  mother,  pursuing  her  pleasant  labours  in 
the  first  garden,  issuing  from  her  bower  at  Adam's 
call, — 

Awake  !  the  morning  shines,  and  the  fresh  field 
Calls  us ;  we  lose  the  prime  to  mark  how  spring 
Our  tender  plants,  how  blows  the  citron  grove, 
What  drops  the  myrrh,  and  what  the  balmy  reed, 
How  Nature  paints  her  colours,  how  the  bee 
Sits  on  the  bloom,  extracting  liquid  sweet : 

or,  to  her  sylvan  home,  as  we  see  her 

Just  then  return' d  at  shut  of  evening  flowers : 

or,  in  the  midst  of  that  anguish,  when  hearing  pro- 
nounced her  banishment  from  Eden,  she  exclaimed 
"  with  audible  lament," 

Oh,  unexpected  stroke,  worse  than  of  death  ! 
Must  I  thus  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  thus  leave 


JANUARY.  53 

Thee,  native  soil !  these  happy  walks  and  shades, 
Fit  haunt  of  Gods  ?  where  I  had  hoped  to  spend, 
Quiet,  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 
That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both.     O  flowers, 
That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 
My  early  visitation  and  my  last 
At  even,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand 
From  the  first  opening  bud,  and  gave  ye  names  ! 
Who  now  shall  rear  ye  to  the  sun,  or  rank 
Your  tribes,  and  water  from  the  ambrosial  fount  ? 

But  Milton,  as  in  other  respects,  so  he  is  unrivalled 
in  his  painting  of  garden  scenery.  One  cannot  but 
remark,  how  in  that,  as  in  every  thing  else,  he  out- 
went his  own  times.  In  those  days  of  tortured  trees, 
and  stiff  formal  fences  and  garden-plots,  what  a 
magnificent  but  free,  and  naturally  beautiful  wilder- 
ness he  has  sketched  in  the  4th  Book  of  Paradise 
Lost !  From  him,  and  Lord  Bacon,  whose  taste, 
however,  was  far  inferior,  we  may  date  the  regene- 
ration of  English  pleasure-gardens ;  and  now  such 
delightful  spots  have  we  scattered  through  the  coun- 
try, that  the  East  from  which  we  borrowed  them 
can  scarcely  rival  them.  The  imaginative  mind 
cannot  contemplate  the  assemblage,  which,  from  all 
far-off  lands,  is  there  brought  together,  without 
being  carried  by  them  into  their  own  fair  regions ; 
nor  the  reflective  one,  without  being  struck  with  the 
innumerable  benefits  we  have  derived  from  art  and 
commerce. 

But  what  crowns  all  these  advantages  is,  that, 
though  our  towns  shut  us  out  from  the  country,  by 
our  gardens  we  can  bring  the  country,  in  some  de- 
5* 


54  JANUARY. 

gree,  after  us  into  the  town.  We  have  them  at  our 
doors;  we  contemplate  them  at  our  quietest  win- 
dows ;  in  some  happier  instances,  they  surround,  on 
all  sides,  our  habitations,  and  make  us  almost  forget 
that  we  live 

In  the  dim  and  treeless  town. 

With  the  theory  or  economy  of  gardening  my 
work  has  nothing  to  do.  Its  business  is  only  with 
those  amenities  of  Nature  which  the  Seasons  present, 
ready  arrayed  to  our  view.  For  this  purpose  I  have 
given,  each  month,  under  the  head  of  "  The  Calen- 
dar of  the  Flower  Garden,"  a  list  of  plants  which 
come  into  bloom  in  that  month ;  and  as  many  plants 
bloom  more  than  one  month,  (some,  many  months,) 
a  figure  at  the  end  of  the  English  name  will  denote 
the  latest  month  in  which  each  particular  plant  is  in 
flower.  This  last  will  be  found  so  copious,  that  there 
are  few  gardens  which  contain  the  whole :  but  one 
will  possess  some ;  another,  others ;  and  the  Linnsean 
class  and  order  being  given,  many  persons  will  be 
able  to  form  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
ornaments  of  their  gardens  than  they  before  had 
done. 

CALENDAR    OF    THE    FLOWER    GARDEN. 

Cyclamen  Coum,  Class  V.  Order  1.    Round-headed  Cyclamen.  3. 

Galanthus  nivalis,  VI.  1      Snowdrop.  3. 

Hydrangea  hortensis,  X.  2.     Changeable-flowered  Hydrangea.  9. 

Helleborus  niger,  XIII.  7.     Christmas  Rose.  3. 

Kranthus  hyemalis.     Winter  Aconite.  4. 

Tussilago  alba,  XIX.  2.    White-leaved  Coltsfoot  3. 


JANUARY.  55 


ENTOMOLOGY. 

The  time  is  past  when  the  study  of  the  names  and 
natures  of  insects  required  an  apology.  To  assert 
that  they  are  things  too  insignificant  for  the  notice 
of  human  beings,  is  to  confess  an  ignorance  of  him- 
self, of  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  and  of  the  God 
who  made  both  him  and  it,  that  no  one  now  will 
suffer  himself,  for  a  moment,  to  be  suspected  of. 
What  the  great  God  has  condescended  to  make, 
can  it  be  a  degradation  for  "  man,  who  is  but  a 
worm,"  to  know  and  consider  ?  Arguments  drawn 
from  the  mere  bulk  of  objects,  go  only  to  prove  that 
giants,  mammoths,  and  elephants  are  the  most  esti- 
mable and  important  things  in  the  world,  and  that 
man  himself  is  comparatively  of  little  moment. 
These  reasonings,  therefore,  which  at  one  time  fur- 
nished the  witling  with  much  merriment  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  naturalist,  have  vanished,  as  they  were 
sure  to  do  :  but,  much  as  Entomology  is  now  es- 
teemed, it  requires  no  prophet  to  see  that  it  must 
become  more  and  more  so.  To  say  nothing  of  the 
benefits  or  inconveniences  we  experience  from  in- 
sects ;  there  are  in  their  minute  shapes  such  won- 
derful instincts,  powers,  and  I  may  add,  passions, 
comprised ;  their  habits  are  so  curious,  extraordi- 
nary, and  varied — their  forms  so  splendid  and  beau- 
tiful— some  in  their  silken  robes,  some  in  their  blue 
and  burnished  armour,  some  with  their  glowing  and 
gorgeous  wings,  transparent  as  crystal,  or  feathered. 


36  JANUARY. 

like  the  peacock ;  they  effect  such  vast  designs  with 
such  small  means,  and  they  so  haunt  all  corners  of 
the  habitable  globe,  that  I  can  conceive  no  portion 
of  all  God's  wonderful  creatures  more  capable  of  at 
once  fascinating  the  attention,  charming  the  fancy, 
or  exciting  the  highest  admiration  in  the  most  intel- 
ligent minds. 

I  regret  that  out  of  upwards  of  ten  thousand 
indigenous  insects,  my  catalogue  must  be  confined 
to  a  very  few — the  most  splendid,  the  most  con- 
spicuous, the  most  curious,  and  the  most  popular — 
such,  in  fact,  as  the  general  lover  of  nature  will  be 
most  likely  to  meet  with  in  his  walks,  without  much 
seeking  after. 

SELECT    CALENDAR    OF    BRITISH    INSECTS. 

NOTE. —  The  Insects  of  this  and  all  the  following  lists  are  named  from 
the  Systematic  Catalogue  of  Stephens, 

Cychrus  rostratus.    Localities,  under  dead  leaves  and  in  rotten  trees 

during  the  winter  ;  pathways  in  summer. 
Carabus  catenulatus.  Under  gorse  or  heaths. 
Carabus  cancellatus.  Rotten  willows  in  the  winter;  under  stones  and 

in  pathways  in  summer. 
Helobia  brevicollis.    Very  common. 
Sphodrus  leucophthalmus.    Cellars,  etc. 
Calathus  cisteloides.    Common  in  damp  situations- 
Colymbetes  bipunctatus. 
Colymbetes  bipustulatue 
Acilius  sulcatus. 

Dyticus  marginalis.          ^  Ponds  and  ditches. 
Dyticus  circumflexus. 
Dyticus  punctulatus. 
Hydrous  piceus. 
Ptinus  Fur.    In  museums,  etc. 


JANUARY.  57 

Coccinella  7-punctata,  Seven-spotted  \  TT    ,       .     T     . 

T     .    ..   ,                                          §  Under    bark    in    winter;    on 

.Lady  bird.                                           f  ,                               ,           . 

„       .     ;                          „       _,          ,     >  plants  in  summer,  devouring 

Coccmella  2-punctata,  Two  Spotted    C 

i  Aphides. 
Lady-bird. 

Acheta  domestica,  House  Cricket. 

Notonecta  furcata,  Furcate  mark'd  Boat-fly.  >  pondg  and  ditcheg 

Notonecta  glauca,  Common  Boat-fly.  > 

Cheimatobia  vulgaris,  The  Winter  Moth.     Hedges. 

Cheimatobia  rupicapraria,  Early  Moth.     Pales  and  houses. 

Peronea  spadiceana,  The  Bay-shouldered  Button.    Woods. 

Most  of  the  insects  included  in  the  list  for  this 
month,  may  be  found  the  greater  part  of  the  year. 
They  hibernate  copiously  beneath  moss  and  the  bark 
of  trees.  Aquatic  beetles,  being  less  subject  to  at- 
mospheric changes,  may  be  observed  and  caught  at 
all  seasons,  but  are  more  active  during  the  summer 
months,  when  their  food  (the  small  aquatic  larvae)  is 
more  abundant.  Being  amphibious,  and  well  pro- 
vided with  wings,  they  can,  when  their  store  of  food 
is  exhausted,  fly  from  one  pool  to  another;  thus 
avoiding  death,  either  from  starvation  or  the  drying 
up  of  the  water  in  summer.  Equipped  with  wings, 
and  having  a  voracious  appetite,  they  tend  mate- 
rially to  keep  in  check  a  myriad  of  noxious  insects, 
and  to  purify  our  ditches  and  stagnant  pools,  which 
would  otherwise  become  unfit  for  cattle. 


FEBRUARY. 


He  giveth  snow  like  wool ;  he  scattereth  the  hoar-frost  like  ashes. 
He  casteth  forth  his  ice  like  morsels ;  who  can  stand  before  his  cold  ? 
He  sendeth  out  his  word  and  melteth  them  ;  he  causeth  his  winds  to 
blow,  and  the  waters  flow. 

PSALM  cxlvii.  16-18. 


As  I  have  already  observed,  I  regard  this  as  the 
most  cheerless  month  in  the  year.  There  may  be 
pleasant  varieties  of  it ;  the  latter  end  may,  and  fre- 
quently is,  much  more  agreeable  than  the  commence- 
ment ;  but,  as  a  whole,  it  is  as  I  have  characterized 
it.  It  is  at  once  damp  and  foggy.  Besides  the  earth 
being  saturated  with  a  whole  winter's  moisture,  there 
is  generally  abundance  of  rain  during  this  month,  so 
much  so  as  to  have  acquired  for  it  the  cognomen  of 
"  February  fill-dike."  The  frosts  and  snows  which 
have  been  locking  up  and  burying  the  earth  for  weeks 
and  months,  are  now  giving  way,  and  what  is  so 
cheerless  and  chilly  as 

A  GREAT  THAW  ?  There  is  a  lack  of  comfort 
felt  every  where.  In  real  winter  weather  the  clear 
frosty  air  sharply  saluted  the  face  by  day,  and 
revealed  to  the  eye  at  night  a  scene  of  pure  and 
sublime  splendour  of  the  lofty  and  intensely  blue  sky 


FEBRUARY.  59 

glittering  with  congregated  stars,  or  irradiated  with 
the  placid  moon.  There  was  a  sense  of  vigour,  of 
elasticity,  of  freshness  about  you,  which  made  it 
welcome  :  but  now,  most  commonly,  by  day  or  by 
night,  the  sky  is  hidden  in  impenetrable  vapour ;  the 
earth  is  sodden  and  splashy  with  wet ;  and  even  the 
very  fireside  does  not  escape  the  comfortless  sense 
of  humidity.  Every  thing  presents  to  the  eye,  accus- 
tomed so  long  to  the  brightness  of  clear  frosts,  and 
the  pure  whiteness  of  snow,  a  dingy  and  soiled 
aspect.  All  things  are  dripping  with  wet :  it  hangs 
upon  the  walls  like  a  heavy  dew ;  it  penetrates  into 
the  drawers  and  wardrobes  of  your  warmest  cham- 
bers ;  and  you  are  surprised  at  the  unusual  damp- 
ness of  your  clothes,  linen,  books,  and  papers  ;  and, 
in  short,  almost  every  thing  you  have  occasion  to 
examine.  Brick  and  stone  floors  are  now  dan- 
gerous things  for  delicate  and  thinly-shod  people  to 
stand  upon.  To  this  source,  and,  in  fact,  to  the 
damps  of  this  month  operating  in  various  ways, 
may  be  attributed  not  a  few  of  the  colds,  coughs, 
and  consumptions  so  prevalent  in  England.  Pave- 
ments are  frequently  so  much  elevated  by  the  ex- 
pansion of  the  moisture  beneath,  as  to  obstruct  the 
opening  and  shutting  of  doors  and  gates :  and  your 
gravel-walks  resemble  saturated  sponges.  Abroad, 
the  streets  are  flooded  with  muddy  water,  and 
slippery  with  patches  of  half-thawed  ice  and  snow, 
which  strike  through  your  shoes  in  a  moment.  The 
houses,  and  all  objects  whatever,  have  a  dirty  and 
disconsolate  aspect ;  and  clouds  of  dim  and  smoky 


60 


FEBRUARY. 


haze  hover  over  the  whole  dispiriting  scene.  In 
the  country,  the  prospect  is  not  much  better:  the 
roads  are  full  of  mire.  In  the  woods  and  copses 
you  hear  a  continual  dripping  and  pattering  of  wet; 
while  the  fieldfares,  instead  of  flying  across  the 
country  with  a  pleasant  chattering,  sit  solitarily 
amongst  the  comfortless  trees,  uttering  their  plain- 
tive cry  of  4<  cock-shute,  cock-shute ;"  and  the 
very  rooks  peer  about  after  worms  in  the  fields 
with  a  drooping  air.  Instead  of  the  enchantments 
of  hoar  frost,  you  have  naked  hedges,  sallow  and 
decaying  weeds  beneath  them,  brown  and  wet  pas- 
tures, and  sheets  of  ice,  but  recently  affording  so 
much  fine  exercise  to  skaters  and  sliders,  half  sub- 
mersed in  water,  full  of  great  cracks,  scattered  with 
straws  and  dirty  patches,  and  stones  half  liberated 
by  the  thaw  : — such  are  the  miserable  features  of 
the  time. 

Let  us  felicitate  ourselves  that  such  joyless  period 
is  seldom  of  long  duration.  The  winds  of  March 
speedily  come  piping  their  jovial  strains,  clearing 
the  face  of  the  blessed  heavens  from  their  sullen  veil 
of  clouds,  and  sweeping  away  the  superabundant 
moisture  from  earth  and  air.  Oh  !  blithe  and  ani- 
mating is  the  breath  of  March !  It  is  like  a  cool 
but  spirit-stirring  draught  of  some  ancient  vintage  ; 
elating  but  not  enervating  the  heart ;  deadening  the 
memory  of  past  evil,  and  expanding  it  to  the  deli- 
cious hope  of  future  delights.  So  precious  a  boon, 
however,  is  not  exclusively  permitted  to  March: 
February  is  often  allowed  to  be  a  liberal  partaker 


FEBRUARY.  61 

ere  its  close,  and  we  have  known  the  winds  lift  up 
their  voices  this  month  with  all  their  triumphant  and 
sonorous  energy.  Nothing  can  perhaps  illustrate  so 
livingly  our  idea  of  a  spirit,  as  a  mighty  wind — 
present  in  its  amazing  power  and  sublimity,  yet 
seen  only  in  its  effects.  We  are  whirled  along  with 
its  careering  torrent  with  irresistible  power;  we 
are  driven  before  it,  as  Miss  Mitford  says,  as  by  a 
steam-engine.  How  it  comes  rushing  and  roaring 
over  the  house,  like  the  billows  of  a  mighty  ocean ! 
Then  for  the  banging  of  doors,  the  screaming  and 
creaking  of  signs,  the  clatter  of  falling  shutters  in 
the  street !  Then  for  the  crash  of  chimneys,  the 
down-topling  of  crazy  gables,  the  showering  of  tiles 
upon  the  pavement,  as  if  the  bomb-shells  of  a  be- 
sieging army  were  demolishing  the  roofs,  and  ren- 
dering it  even  death  to  walk  the  streets  !  Then  for 
a  scene  of  awful  grandeur  upon  the  glorious  ocean ! 
That  which,  but  an  hour  before,  was  calm  and  sun- 
bright,  a  variety  of  vessels  lying  at  anchor,  or 
sailing  to  and  fro  in  serene  beauty,  then  is  a  scene 
of  sublime  and  chaotic  uproar  ! — the  waves  rolling 
and  foaming,  and  dashing  their  spray  over  rocks, 
pier-heads,  houses,  and  even  over  the  loftiest  towers 
and  churches  too,  as  I  have  seen  it,  to  an  amazing 
extent,  till  the  water  ran  down  the  walls  like  rain, 
and  the  windows,  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
beach,  were  covered  with  a  salt  incrustation — the 
vessels  meanwhile  labouring  amidst  the  riotous  bil- 
lows as  for  life,  and  tugging  at  their  cables  as  if 
6 


62  FEBRUARY. 

mad  for  their  escape.  Many  a  beautiful,  many  a 
wild,  many  an  animating  spectacle  is  to  be  wit- 
nessed on  the  shores  of  our  happy  isle  in  such 
moments.  What  anxious  groups  are  collected  on 
the  quays  of  populous  ports !  What  lonely  peril  is 
encountered  on  distant  strands,  where  the  solitary 
fisherman  picks  up  a  troubled  and  precarious  liveli- 
hood ! 

Then  too  for  the  most  animated  scene  which  the 
inland  country  can  exhibit  in  all  the  twelve  months, 
a  scene  mixed  with  no  slight  touches  of  the  gro- 
tesque. Wherever  you  go,  the  people,  perhaps  sud- 
denly aroused  from  the  tranquil  fireside  of  a  Sunday 
afternoon,  are  swarming  upon  the  roofs  of  their 
houses,  like  bees  startled  from  their  cells  by  the  un- 
expected appearance  of  some  formidable  intruder, 
toiling  to  resist  the  outrageous  attack  of  the  storm 
upon  the  thatch;  which  is,  here  and  there,  torn 
clean  from  the  rafters,  and  in  other  places  heaves 
and  pants  as  if  impatient  to  try  a  flight  into  the  next 
fields,  or  garden.  There  is  an  universal  erection  of 
ladders,  a  bustling,  anxious  laying-on  of  logs,  rails, 
harrows,  or  whatsoever  may  come  to  hand  to  keep 
down  the  mutinous  roof.  Old  wives,  with  spectacled 
noses,  and  kerchiefs  incontinently  tied  over  their 
mob-caps,  are  seen  reconnoitring  pig-sties,  hen- 
roosts, etc.  lest  they  be  blown  down,  or  something 
be  blown  down  upon  them.  What  a  solemn  and 
sublime  roar  too  there  is  in  the  woods — a  sound  as 
of  tempestuous  seas  !  What  poetical  spirit  can  hear 


FEBRUARY. 


it  without  being  influenced  by  incommunicable  ideas 
of  power,  majesty,  and  the  stupendous  energies  of  the 
elements  ! 

Oh  storm  and  darkness,  ye  are  wondrous  strong  ! 

What  picturesque  ruin  is  there  scattered  around  you ! 
Trees  overwhelmed,  immense  branches  torn  down, 
small  boughs  broken,  and  dry  leaves  whirled  along, 
or  quivering  in  the  air  like  birds.  What  a  harvest 
of  decayed  sticks  for  the  Goody  Blakes,  who,  with 
their  checked-aprons  held  up,  will  not  fail  to  discover 
it !  What  a  harvest  too  for  the  newspapers,  which 
will  be  filled  for  a  season  with  calamitous  accounts 
of  accidents  and  deaths  by  falling  of  chimneys, 
shipwrecks,  and  so  forth ! 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month,  we  are  gladdened 
with  symptoms  of  approaching  spring.  On  warm 
banks  the  commencement  of  vegetation  is  per- 
ceptible ;  the  sap  is  stirring  in  the  trees,  swelling 
and  feeding  the  buds :  in  gardens  a  variety  of  green 
things  are  peeping  from  the  earth,  and  snowdrops, 
hepaticas,  etc.  are  actually  in  bloom. 

In  towns  it  is  a  cheering  sight,  even  while  all 
without  is  frosty  and  wintry,  to  see,  as  we  pass,  in 
cottage  windows,  tufts  of  crocuses  and  snowdrops 
flowering  in  pots ;  and  in  those  of  wealthier  dwell- 
ings, hyacinths,  narcissi,  etc.  in  glasses,  displaying 
their  bulbs  and  long  fibrous  roots  in  the  clear  water 
below,  and  the  verdure  and  flowery  freshness  of 
summer  above.  It  is  a  sight  truly  English.  It  is 


64  FEERUAKV. 

in  accordance  with  our  ideas  of  home-comfort  and 
elegance.  If  we  are  to  believe  travellers,  in  no 
country  is  the  domestic  culture  of  flowers  so  much 
attended  to  as  in  this.  I  trust  this  will  always  be  a 
prevailing  taste  with  us.  There  is  something  pure 
and  refreshing  in  the  appearance  of  plants  in  a  room; 
and  watched  and  waited  on,  as  they  are  generally, 
by  the  gentler  sex,  they  are  links  in  many  pleasant 
associations.  They  are  the  cherished  favourites  of 
our  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  friends  not  less 
dear ;  and  connect  themselves  in  our  mind  with 
their  feminine  delicacy,  loveliness,  and  affectionate 
habits  and  sentiments. 


February  is  so  called  from  the  Roman  custom  of 
burning  expiatory  sacrifices,  Februalia :  the  Saxons 
called  it  Sprout-kele,  because  the  kale,  or  cabbage, 
began  to  sprout;  and  also  Sol-monath,  or  pancake- 
month,  because  cakes  were  offered  to  the  sun. 

Various  signs  of  returning  spring  occur  at  dif- 
ferent times  in  February.  The  wood-lark,  one  of 
our  earliest  and  sweetest  songsters,  often  begins  his 
note  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  month.  The  thrush 
now  commences  his  song,  and  tomtits  are  seen 
hanging  on  the  eaves  of  barns  and  thatched  out- 
houses, particularly  if  the  weather  be  snowy  and 
severe.  Rooks  now  revisit  their  breeding-trees, 
and  arrange  the  stations  of  their  future  nests.  The 
harsh,  loud  voice  of  the  missel-thrush  is  now  heard 
towards  the  end  of  the  month  ;  and,  if  the  weather 


FEBRUARY.  65 

be  mild,  the  hedge-sparrow  renews  its  chirping 
note.  Turkey-cocks  now  strut  and  gobble ;  par- 
tridges begin  to  pair ;  the  house-pigeon  has  young  ; 
field-crickets  open  their  holes;  and  wood-owls  hoot: 
gnats  play  about,  and  insects  swarm  under  sunny 
hedges ;  the  stone-curlew  clamours ;  and  frogs 
croak.  By  the  end  of  February,  the  raven  has 
generally  laid  its  eggs,  and  begun  to  sit.  About 
this  time  the  green  woodpecker  is  heard  in  the 
woods  making  a  loud  noise.  The  elder-tree  dis- 
closes its  flower-buds.  The  catkins  of  the  hazel 
become  very  conspicuous  in  the  hedges.  Young 
leaves  are  budding  on  the  gooseberries  and  currants 
about  the  end  of  the  month. 

What  are  called  Dissected  Leaves, — i.  e.  leaves  of 
which  the  cuticle  and  cellular  membranes  have  been 
decomposed  by  the  active  influence  of  wintry  rains, 
winds  and  frosts,  leaving  only  a  curious  network 
of  the  veiny  fibres, — are,  about  this  season,  found 
blowing  about  in  our  path,  particularly  in  woods, 
and  strongly  attract  the  attention  of  young  people, 
who  frequently  attempt  imitations  of  them  by  the 
application  of  vinegar  or  other  acids  to  leaves  yet 
undecomposed. 

Moles  go  to  work  in  throwing  up  their  hillocks 
as  soon  as  the  earth  is  softened.  Under  some  of  the 
largest,  a  little  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  they 
make  their  nests  of  moss,  in  which  four  or  five 
young  are  found  at  a  time.  These  animals  live  on 
worms,  insects,  and  .the  roots  of  plants.  They  do 
much  mischief  in  gardens,  by  loosening  and  devour- 
6* 


66  FEBRUARY. 

ing  flower-roots ;  but  in  the  fields  they  seem  to  do 
no  other  harm  than  rendering  the  surface  of  the 
ground  unequal  by  their  hillocks,  which  obstruct  the 
scythe  in  mowing.  They  are  said  also  to  pierce  the 
sides  of  dams  and  canals,  and  let  out  the  water.  Of 
this  latter  charge  we  should  be  doubtful.  Their 
instinct,  it  is  very  probable,  will  preserve  them  from 
letting  off  water  which  would  drown  them,  and  the 
approach  to  which  they  must  perceive  by  the  mois- 
ture of  the  soil. 

A  Mole-catcher,  Miss  Mitford  has  said,  "is  of  the 
earth,  earthy;"  but  he  is  of  the  green  fields,  of  the 
solitary  woodlands.  We  observe  him,  especially  in 
the  spring  and  the  autumn,  a  silent  and  picturesque 
object,  poring  under  hedges  and  along  the  skirts  of 
the  forest,  or  the  margin  of  a  stream,  for  traces  of 

The  little  black-a-moor  pioneer 
Grubbing  his  way  in  darkness  drear. 

We  have  met  him  in  copses  and  hazel-shaded  lanes, 
cutting  springs  for  his  traps ;  and  we  not  only  love 
him,  and  look  upon  him  as  one  of  the  legitimate 
objects  of  rural  scenery,  but  have  often  found  him 
a  quiet  but  shrewd  observer  of  nature,  and  capable 
of  enriching  us  with  many  fragments  of  knowledge. 
In  the  winter  by  his  fire  he  makes  his  traps.  These 
are  very  simple  machines,  which  almost  any  one 
may  construct.  We  have  made  and  set  many  a 
one  ourselves,  and  have  been  up  by  the  earliest 
dawn  of  day  to  discover  their  success.  Many 
moles  may  be  caught  in  one  place,  if  the  trap  be 


FEBRUARY.  67 

judiciously  set  in  a  main  burrow.  It  is  better  near 
a  hedge,  or  in  a  plantation,  than  in  the  middle  of  a 
field,  where  it  is  liable  to  be  disturbed  by  cattle.  A 
strong  hazel  stick  for  the  spring,  two  pieces  of  brass 
wire,  a  little  string,  a  few  hooked  pegs,  and  a  top 
made  of  the  half  of  a  piece  of  willow  pole,  about 
six  inches  long  and  three  in  diameter,  hollowed  out, 
are  all  the  requisites  for  a  mole-trap. 


RURAL    OCCUPATIONS. 


Thrashing,  tending  cattle,  early  lambs,  calves, 
etc.  continue,  as  in  last  month,  to  occupy  the 
thoughts  and  the  hands  of  the  husbandman.  Ma- 
nures too  are  carried  to  grass  lands.  Ploughing 
is  on  the  increase ;  and  spring  wheat,  beans,  peas, 
oats,  and  tares  are  sown.  In  mild  weather,  hedges 
are  planted ;  overgrown  fences  are  cut,  or  plashed. 
Ponds  and  drains  are  made.  Timber  is  felled,  and 
tree-seeds  are  sown.  Copsewood  is  cut,  and  plan- 
tations are  thinned.  In  the  garden,  various  opera- 
tions of  pruning,  digging,  sowing,  etc.  are  going  on. 

ANGLING. 

Almost  every  fresh-water  fish  is  in  season,  ex- 
cepting chub,  during  the  latter  half  of  the  month, 
and  trout,  which  continues  so  till  April.  Roach 
and  dace  are  deemed  to  be  this  month  in  prime. 
They  frequent  rivers,  and  must  be  sought  for  at  this 
season  in  deep,  shaded  holes,  in  clear  waters  with 


68  FEBRUARY. 

gravelly  bottoms ;  dace,  particularly  amongst  weeds, 
and  under  the  foam  caused  by  eddies.  The  best 
baits  for  them  now  are  paste,  gentles,  or  larvae  of 
beetles,  got  by  digging  up  the  roots  of  plants.  The 
flies  of  this  month  are  plain  hackle,  great  dun, 
great  blue  dun,  and  dark  dun. 


MIGRATIONS    OF    BIRDS. 

ARRIVALS NONE. 

DEPARTURES. 

Anas  strepera,  Gadwell,  goes  Feb.  comes   Dec.    Haunts,  Coasts  in 

severe  winters. 

Anas  acuta,  Pintailed  Duck,  comes  Dec.     Lakes  and  shores. 
Anser  Brenta,  Wild-goose,  Brent,  goes  Feb.  3,  comes  Dec.  18.    Lakes 

and  marshes. 
Anser  palustris,  Wild-goose,  Gray  Lagg,  goes  Feb.  10,  comes  Oct.  6. 

Fens. 
Anser  Erythropus,   Laughing   Goose,    comes    Dec.     Northern  and 

Western  coasts. 
Anser  Bernicia,  Bernacle  Goose,  comes  Dec.    Northern  and  Western 

coasts. 
Bombycilla  garrula,  Silk-tail,  Waxen-chatterer,  comes  Nov.    Near  ivy 

and  hawthorns. 

Calidris  arenaria,  Sanderling,  comes  Aug.  28.     English  beach. 
Charadrius  pluvialis,  Golden  Plover,  goes  Feb.   6,  comes  Nov.  5. 

Heathy  mountains. 
Clangula  vulgaris,  Golden-eyed  Pocher,  comes  Nov.  29.    Shores  and 

fresh  meres. 

Columba  (Enas,  Stock  Dove,  comes  Nov.     Woods. 
Colymbus  arcticus,  Black-throated  Diver,  comes  Dec.     Sea-shore. 
Colymbus  septentrionalis,  Red-throated  Diver,  comes  Dec.    Sea-shore. 
Curruca  provincialis,  Dartford  Warbler,  comes  Oct.     About  London. 
Cygnus  ferus,  Wild  Swan,  goes  Feb.  comes  Sept.  4.    Northern  Lakes — 

The  Trent. 

Fringilla  Montifringilla,  Mountain  Finch,  comes  Aug.    Mountains. 
Fringilla  Spinus,  Siskin,  comes  Aug.    South.    About  London. 


FEBRUARY.  69 

Limosa  aegocephala,  Godwit,  comes  Aug.     Marshes. 

Limosa  rufa,  Bar-tailed  Godwit,  comes  Aug.     Sea-shore. 

Mergus  Merganser,  Goosander,  goes  Feb.  4,  comes  Dec.  18.  Pools 
and  fens. 

Mergus  Albellus,  White-headed  Smew,  comes  Dec.  18.    Sea-shore. 

Nurnenius  arquata,  Sea  Curlew,  goes  Feb.  6,  comes  Sept.  4.  Moors  in 
summer. 

Nyroca  Marila,  Scaup  Duck,  comes  Dec.    Coasts  in  severe  winters. 

Oidemia  fusca,  Velvet  Duck,  comes  Dec.     Sea-shore. 

Oidemia  nigra,  Black  Duck  or  Diver,  comes  Dec.  Coasts  in  severe 
winters. 

Podiceps  minor,  Lesser  Guillimot,  comes  Oct.    Sea-shore. 

Somateria  mollissima,  Eider  Duck,  comes  Dec.  Tarn  Island,  North- 
umberland, 

Totanus  Glottis,  Green-shanked  Godwit,  comes  Aug.    Sea-shore. 

Tringa  Canutis,  Knot,  goes  Feb.  3,  comes  Aug.  28.    Sea-shore. 

Tringa  Alpina,  Purre,  comes  Aug.  28.    Sea-shore. 

These,  it  will  be  seen  at  a  glance,  are  birds  of 
more  northern  climates,  which  have  merely  sought 
to  escape  the  wintry  rigours  of  their  native  regions, 
and  are  now  returning  to  prepare  for  the  cares  and 
enjoyments  of  the  summer  in  the  Orkneys,  Shet- 
lands,  Iceland,  Greenland,  and  about  Hudson's  Bay, 
etc.  Several  of  them,  however,  only  partially  mi- 
grate, as  the  godwit,  purre,  sanderling,  sea-curlew, 
etc. ;  resorting  to  the  fens  and  moors  in  the  interior 
in  summer,  and  returning  to  the  coast  in  winter. 

CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Crocus  vernus,  Class  III.  Order  1.     Spring  crocus.  3. 

Cornus  mascula,  IV.  1.     Cornelian  Cherry.  3. 

Bulbocodium  vernum.     Spring  Bulbocodium.  3. 

Andromeda  angustifolia,  X.  1.     Narrow-leaved  Andromeda.  4. 

Cydonia  Japonica  (Pyrus  Japonica),  XII.  2.     Japan  Quince.  10. 

Helleborus  lividus,  XIII  7.     Spot-leaved  Hellebore. 

Tussilago  fragrans,  XIX.  2.    Fragrant  Coltsfoot.  3 


70  FEBRUARY. 


SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Galanthus  nivalis,    Class  VI.  Order  1.     Snowdrop.    Locality,  about 

ruins.     Duration,  3. 

Helleborus  fcetidus,  XIII.  3.    Stinking  Bearsfoot.     Waste  grounds.  3. 
Lamiura  amplexicaule,  XIV.  1.     Great  Henbit.  8. 
Draba  verna,  XV.  1.    Common  Whitlow  grass.    Old  walls  and  sandy 

places.  4. 

Ulex  Europaeus,  XVII.  3.    Gorse  or  Whin.    Heaths,  etc.  12. 
Senecio  vulgaris,  XIX.  2.    Groundsel.    Gardens.  12. 
Taxus  baccata,  XXII.  8.    Common  Yew.     Mountainous  woods.  3. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Pristonychus  terricola.    Haunts,  Cellars  and  caverns.  To  9. 

Hydrophilus  caraboides.     Ditches  near  London.    To  10. 

Berosus  luridus.     Ponds.    To  9. 

Silpha  opaca.     Sandy  places.    To  7. 

Dermestes  lardarius.     Houses,  etc.     To  10. 

Coccinella  7-punctata,  7-spotted  Lady  bird.    Various  plants.    To  10. 

Tenebrio  molitor,  Mealworm  Beetle.    Houses,  flour-mills.     To  10. 

Eriogaster  lanestris,  Small  Egger.    Hedges  and  thickets.    To  6. 

Zanthia  croceago,  Orange  Upper-wing.    Amongst  dry  leaves.    To  6. 

Aplocera  coesiata,  The  February  Carpet.     Skirts  of  woods. 

Pristonychus  Terricola.  I  have  in  this  instance 
deviated  from  the  plan  of  naming  the  insects  in  the 
above  lists  from  Mr.  Stephens's  Catalogue,  where 
its  generic  name  is  Sphodrus,  and  adopted  that 
given  in  his  "  Nomenclature  of  British  Insects,"  as 
established  by  De  Jean.  It  is  distinguished  from 
Sphodrus  leucophthalmus  by  its  smaller  size  and  the 
absence  of  wings. 

Hydrophilus  caraboides.  This  species,  which  is 
so  common  in  the  south  of  England,  (particularly 
near  London,)  is  rarely  met  with  in  the  north.  In 
Nottinghamshire  I  have  never  heard  of  its  being 


FEBRUARY.  71 

taken :  the  Nottingham  district,  including  Sher- 
wood Forest,  is  however  very  productive,  although 
some  species  are  extremely  local.  The  first  British 
specimens  of  Saperda  ferrea  were  taken  by  myself 
in  the  county. 

Berosus  luridus.  The  insects  of  this  beautiful 
genus  are  frequently  confounded.  I  would,  there- 
fore, advise  the  young  entomologist  to  examine 
them  with  care ;  they  delight  in  pools  having  a 
clayey  bottom,  and  haunt  the  roots  and  stems  of 
aquatic  plants  near  the  margin. 

Silpha  opaca.  This  rare  species  is  sometimes 
taken  in  the  vicinity  of  Nottingham,  in  this  and  the 
two  following  months. 

Coccinella  septem-punctata,  or  Lady-bird,  is  as- 
sociated with  the  remembrance  of  almost  every 
country  ramble,  and  is  welcomed  with  rapture  by 
every  child  who  has  heard  the  nursery  air  of 

Lady-bird !  lady-bird !  fly  away  home  : 

Thy  house  is  on  fire,  and  thy  children  will  burn !  etc. 

It  is  an  insect  that  deserves  the  protection  of  every 
gardener  and  lover  of  plants ;  its  food  being  the 
various  species  of  aphides,  those  destroyers  and 
disfigurers  of  our  hothouses  and  gardens.  The 
whole  genus  is  subject  to  great  variation  ;  so  much 
so,  that  it  is  impossible  to  determine  the  species 
without  carefully  collecting  couples. 

Tenebrio  molitor.  The  larvae  (commonly  called 
meal-worms)  of  this  domestic  beetle  form  the  fa- 
vourite food  of  the  nightingale  when  in  confine- 
ment. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS. 


BY  MARY  HOWITT. 


SPRING. 

THE  Spring — she  is  a  blessed  thing  ' 
She  is  the  mother  of  the  flowers ; 

She  is  the  mate  of  birds  and  bees, 

The  partner  of  their  revelries, 

Our  star  of  hope  through  wintry  hours. 

The  merry  children  when  they  see 

Her  coming,  by  the  budding  thorn, 
They  leap  upon  the  cottage  floor, 
They  shout  beside  the  cottage  door, 
And  run  to  meet  her  night  and  morn. 

They  are  soonest  with  her  in  the  woods, 

Peeping,  the  wither'd  leaves  among, 
To  find  the  earliest,  fragrant  thing, 
That  dares  from  the  cold  earth  to  spring, 
Or  catch  the  earliest  wild-bird's  song. 

The  little  brooks  run  on  in  light, 

As  if  they  had  a  chase  of  mirth ; 
The  skies  are  blue,  the  air  is  warm, 
Our  very  hearts  have  caught  the  charm 
That  sheds  a  beauty  over  earth. 


SPRING.  73 

The  aged  man  is  in  the  field  ; 

The  maiden  'mong  her  garden  flowers  ; 
The  sons  of  sorrow  and  distfess 
Are  wandering  in  fbrgetfulness 

Of  wants  that  fret  and  care  that  lours. 

She  comes  with  more  than  present  good — 

With  joys  to  store  for  future  years, 
From  which  in  striving  crowds  apart, 
The  bow'd  in  spirit,  bruised  in  heart, 

May  glean  up  hope  with  grateful  tears. 

Up ! — let  us  to  the  fields  away, 

And  breathe  the  fresh  and  balmy  air  : 
The  bird  is  building  in  the  tree, 
The  flower  has  open'd  to  the  bee, 

And  health,  and  love,  and  peace  are  there ! 


MARCH. 


And  now  men  see  not  the  bright  light  which  is  in  the  clouds,  bat 
the  wind  passeth  by  and  cleanseth  them. 
Fair  weather  cometh  out  of  the  north. 

JOB  xxxvii.  21,  22. 


EVERY  month,  like  a  good  servant,  brings  its  own 
character  with  it.  This  is  a  circumstance  which,  the 
more  I  have  studied  the  Seasons,  the  more  I  have 
been  led  to  admire.  Artificial  as  the  division  of 
the  months  may  be  deemed  by  some,  it  is  so  much 
founded  in  nature,  that  no  sooner  comes  in  a  new 
one  than  we  generally  have  a  new  species  of 
weather,  and  that  instantaneously.  This  curious 
fact  is  more  particularly  conspicuous  in  the  earlier 
months,  there  being  greater  contrast  in  them.  In 
comes  January, — and  let  the  weather  be  what  it 
might  before,  immediately  sets  in  severe  cold  and 
frost:  in  February,  wet — wet — wet;  which,  the 
moment  March  enters,  ceases — and  lo !  instead — 
even  on  the  very  first  day  of  the  month,  there  is  a 
dry  chill  air,  with  breaks  of  sunshine  stealing  here 
and  there  over  the  landscape.  The  clouds  above 
fly  about  with  a  brisker  motion,  and  the  paths  under 


MARCH.  75 

our  feet,  which  yesterday  were  intolerably  miry, 
become  at  once  solid  and  dry.  The  change  is  sur- 
prising. Twelve  hours  of  March  air  will  dry  the 
surface  of  the  earth  almost  to  dustiness,  even  though 
no  sunshine  should  be  seen ;  and  "  a  peck  of  March 
dust  is  worth  a  king's  ransom,"  says  the  old  proverb, 
which  we  may  suppose  means,  that  the  drying  pro- 
perty of  March  is  invaluable,  removing  the  super- 
abundant humidity,  and  enabling  the  husbandman 
to  get  in  his  seeds — the  hope  of  summer  produce. 
So  speedily  does  the  mire  of  winter  vanish  in  this 
month,  that  country  people,  who  connect  their 
adages,  which  though  significant  are  not  literally 
true,  with  something  which  makes  them  partially 
so,  say,  "  The  rooks  have  picked  up  all  the  dirt," 
because  the  rooks  are  now  busily  employed  in 
building  their  nests,  and  use  mire  to  line  them,  as 
do  magpies  too  at  this  period ;  who  place  their 
thorny  halls  on  the  tops  of  the  yet  leafless  trees, 
objects  conspicuous  but  secure. 

March  is  a  rude,  and  sometimes  boisterous  month, 
possessing  many  of  the  characteristics  of  winter; 
yet  awakening  sensations  perhaps  more  delicious 
than  the  two  following  spring  months,  for  it  gives 
us  the  first  announcement  and  taste  of  spring. 
What  can  equal  the  delight  of  our  hearts  at  the 
very  first  glimpse  of  spring — the  first  springing  of 
buds  and  green  herbs  !  It  is  like  a  new  life  infused 
into  our  bosoms.  A  spirit  of  tenderness,  a  burst  of 
freshness  arid  luxury  of  feeling,  possesses  us :  and 
let  fifty  springs  have  broken  upon  us,  this  joy,  unlike 


76  MARCH. 

many  joys  of  the  time,  is  not  an  atom  impaired. 
Are  we  not  young  1  Are  we  not  boys  1  Do  we 
not  break,  by  the  power  of  awakened  thoughts,  into 
all  the  rapturous  scenes  of  our  happier  years? 
There  is  something  in  the  freshness  of  the  soil — in 
the  mossy  bank — the  balmy  air — the  voices  of  birds 
— the  early  and  delicious  flowers,  that  we  have  seen 
and  felt  only  in  childhood  and  spring. 

There  are  frequently  mornings  in  March,  when  a 
lover  of  nature  may  enjoy,  in  a  stroll,  sensations 
not  to  be  exceeded,  or  perhaps  equalled,  by  any 
thing  which  the  full  glory  of  summer  can  awaken  : 
— mornings  which  tempt  us  to  cast  the  memory  of 
winter,  or  the  fear  of  its  return,  out  of  our  thoughts. 
The  air  is  mild  and  balmy,  with,  now  and  then,  a 
cool  gush  by  no  means  unpleasant,  but  on  the  con- 
trary, contributing  towards  that  cheering  and  pecu- 
liar feeling  which  we  experience  only  in  spring. 
The  sky  is  clear ;  the  sun  flings  abroad  not  only  a 
gladdening  splendour,  but  an  almost  summer  glow. 
The  world  seems  suddenly  aroused  to  hope  and 
enjoyment.  The  fields  are  assuming  a  vernal  green- 
ness— the  buds  are  swelling  in  the  hedges — the 
banks  are  displaying,  amidst  the  brown  remains  of 
last  year's  vegetation,  the  luxuriant  weeds  of  this. 
There  are  arums,  ground-ivy,  chervil,  the  glaucous 
leaves  and  burnished  flowers  of  the  pilewrort, 

The  first  gilt  thing 
That  wears  the  trembling  pearls  of  spring ; 

and  many  other  fresh  and  early  bursts  of  greenery. 


MARCH.  77 

All  unexpectedly,  too,  in  some  embowered  lane,  you 
are  arrested  by  the  delicious  odour  of  violets,  those 
sweetest  of  Flora's  children,  which  have  furnished 
so  many  pretty  allusions  to  the  poets,  and  which  are 
not  yet  exhausted :  they  are  like  true  friends,  we  do 
not  know  half  their  sweetness  till  they  have  felt  the 
sunshine  of  our  kindness :  and  again,  they  are  like 
the  pleasures  of  our  childhood,  the  earliest  and  the 
most  beautiful.  Now,  however,  they  are  to  be  seen 
in  all  their  glory — blue  and  white — modestly  peering 
through  their  thick,  clustering  leaves.  The  lark  is 
carolling  in  the  blue  fields  of  air ;  the  wood-lark 
sings  rejoicingly ;  the  blackbird  and  thrush  are 
again  shouting  and  replying  to  each  other,  from  the 
tops  of  the  highest  trees.  As  you  pass  the  cottages, 
they  have  caught  the  happy  infection :  there  are 
windows  thrown  open,  and  doors  standing  ajar. 
The  inhabitants  are  in  their  gardens,  some  clearing 
away  rubbish,  some  turning  up  the  light  and  fresh- 
smelling  soil  amongst  the  tufts  of  snowdrops  and 
rows  of  bright  yellow  crocuses,  which  every  where 
abound ;  and  the  children,  ten  to  one,  are  peeping 
into  the  first  birds'  nest  of  the  season — the  hedge- 
sparrow's  with  its  four  sea-green  eggs,  snugly  but 
unwisely  built  in  the  pile  of  old  pea-rods. 

In  the  fields  labourers  are  plashing  and  trimming 
the  hedges,  and  in  all  directions  are  teams  at  plough. 
You  smell  the  wholesome,  and,  I  may  truly  say, 
aromatic  soil,  as  it  is  turned  up  to  the  sun,  brown 
and  rich,  the  whole  country  over.  It  is  delightful, 
as  you  pass  along  deep  hollow  lanes,  or  are  hidden 
7* 


78  MARCH. 

in  copses,  to  hear  the  tinkling  gears  of  the  horses, 
and  the  clear  voices  of  the  lads  calling  to  them.  It 
is  not  less  pleasant  to  catch  the  busy  caw  of  the 
rookery,  and  the  first  meek  cry  of  the  young  lambs. 
The  hares  are  hopping  about  the  fields,  the  excite- 
ment of  the  season  overcoming  their  habitual  timi- 
dity. The  bees  are  revelling  in  the  yellow  catkins 
of  the  sallow.  The  harmless  English  snake  is  seen 
again  curling  up  like  a  little  coil  of  rope,  with  its 
head  in  the  centre,  on  sunny  green  banks.  The 
woods,  though  yet  unadorned  with  their  leafy  garni- 
ture, are  beautiful  to  look  on ; — they  seem  flushed 
with  life.  Their  boughs  are  of  a  clear  and  glossy 
lead  colour,  and  the  tree-tops  are  rich  with  the 
vigorous  hues  of  brown,  red,  and  purple ;  and,  if 
you  plunge  into  their  solitudes,  there  are  symptoms 
of  revivification  under  your  feet — the  springing  mer- 
cury and  green  blades  of  the  blue-bells — and  per- 
haps above  you  the  early  nest  of  the  missel-thrush, 
perched  between  the  boughs  of  a  young  oak,  to 
tinge  your  thoughts  with  the  anticipation  of  summer. 
These  are  mornings  not  to  be  neglected  by  the  lover 
of  Nature,  and  if  not  neglected,  then  not  forgotten  ; 
for  they  will  stir  the  springs  of  memory,  and  make 
us  live  over  again,  times  and  seasons  that  we 
cannot,  for  the  pleasure  and  purity  of  our  spirits, 
live  over  too  much. 

In  March  the  shells  of  snails,  which  have  perished 
during  the  winter,  will  be  seen  in  great  numbers, 
thrown  out  upon  the  banks  by  the  crumbling  down 
of  the  mould,  rendered  light  by  win'er-frosts,  and 


MARCH.  79 

now  loosened  by  the  dry  penetrating  air.  Where 
the  larger  species  of  snails  abound,  their  broken 
shells  will  also  be  found  in  heaps  under  the  hedges, 
wherever  there  is  a  stone,  the  throstles  digging  them 
out  and  laying  them  on  the  stone,  the  more  readily 
to  fracture  them ; — a  fact  but  recently  noticed  by 
naturalists,  but  familiar  to  the  peasantry.  Cottagers 
now  gather  the  tender-springing  tops  of  nettles  to 
make  pottage,  considered  by  them  a  great  purifier 
of  the  blood.  They  also  boil  them  instead  of 
spinach,  as  they  do  the  tops  of  the  wild  hop,  as  a 
substitute  for  asparagus.  But  of  all  vegetables  that 
are  cultivated,  next  to  the  potato,  rhubarb  has 
become,  perhaps,  the  most  valuable  to  the  poor,  and 
pleasant  to  all.  Of  late  its  growth  has  rapidly  in- 
creased ;  and  people  who,  some  years  ago,  never 
saw  such  an  article  exposed  in  our  markets,  are 
now  astonished  at  the  quantities  brought  there,  and 
disposed  of  with  the  greatest  readiness.  As  a  most 
wholesome  and  agreeable  vegetable,  coming  in 
early  and  supplying  a  delightful  acidulous  material 
for  pies  and  puddings,  till  gooseberries  are  ready,  it 
is  invaluable,  and  seems  destined  to  acquire  universal 
estimation. 


March,  which  was  the  first  month  in  antiquity, 
was  named  so  after  Mars,  the  god  of  war,  because 
he  was  the  father  of  their  first  prince.  This,  at 
least,  is  the  reason  given  by  Ovid.  The  Saxons 
called  it  Lenct-monath,  because  the  days  now  began 


80  MARCH. 

in  length  to  exceed  the  nights.  Lend  also  means 
spring;  therefore  it  was  their  spring  month.  It 
was  called,  too,  by  them  Rhed-monath,  from  Rheda, 
one  of  their  deities,  to  whom  sacrifices  were  offered 
in  March,  and  from  raed,  council,  March  being  the 
month  wherein  wars  or  expeditions  were  under- 
taken by  the  Gothic  tribes.  They  also  called  it 
Hlyd-monath,  or  the  Stormy  month. 

Bats  and  reptiles  break  up  their  winter  sleep; 
the  little  smelts  or  sparlings  run  up  the  softened 
rivers  to  spawn  ;  the  fieldfare  and  woodcock  return 
to  their  northern  quarters ;  the  rooks  are  all  in 
motion  with  building,  and  it  is  said  by  gentlemen 
who  have  observed  them  for  many  successive 
years,  that  the  commencement  of  their  building  is 
so  exactly  timed,  that  it  is  often  on  the  same  day 
of  each  returning  spring;  hens  sit;  geese  and  ducks 
lay ;  pheasants  crow ;  the  ring-dove  coos  ;  young 
lambs  appear;  the  throstle  sings;  and  lastly,  the 
bee  issues  forth  with  his  vernal  trumpet  to  tell  us 
news  of  sunshine  and  flowers. 

In  Nature  there  is  nothing  melancholy. 

Frogs,  which  during  winter  lay  in  a  torpid  state  at 
the  bottom  of  ponds  and  ditches,  early  in  this 
month  rise  to  the  surface  of  the  water  in  vast 
swarms.  The  linnet,  the  goldfinch,  the  golden- 
crested  wren,  and  the  greenfinch  are  in  song ;  the 
blackbird  and  the  turkey  lay ;  house-pigeons  sit ; 
and  the  viper  uncoils  itself  from  its  winter  sleep. 
The  wheatear,  or  English  ortolan,  (saxicola  O3nan- 


MARCH.  81 

the,)  again  pays  its  annual  visit,  leaving  England  in 
September.  The  gannets,  or  Soland  geese,  resort 
in  March  to  the  Hebrides  and  other  rocky  islands 
of  North  Britain,  to  make  their  nests  and  lay  their 
eggs.  In  March  and  April,  before  pairing-time, 
starlings  may  be  seen  in  the  fields,  in  large  dense 
flocks,  circling  about  in  their  remarkable  wheeling 
kind  of  flight ;  and,  ever  and  anon,  settling  upon 
some  tree,  which  they  cover  to  blackness,  and 
making  a  cheerful  warbling  chorus,  much  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  red-winged  thrushes  before 
they  take  their  departure  for  the  north.  In  this 
month  black  ants  are  observed;  trouts  begin  to 
rise  ;  and  blood-worms  appear  in  the  water.  The 
clay  hair-worm  is  found  at  the  bottom  of  drains 
and  ditches,  and  the  water-flea  may  be  seen  gliding 
about  on  the  surface  of  sheltered  pools.  Black 
beetles  may  now  be  observed  flying  about  in  the 
evening.  Roach  and  dace  float  near  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  sport  about  in  pursuit  of  insects. 
Peas  appear  above  ground ;  the  sea-kale  (crambe 
maritima)  now  begins  to  sprout.  The  male  blos- 
soms of  the  yew-tree  expand  and  discharge  their 
farina.  Besides  the  catkins  of  the  hazel  and  the 
sallow,  the  alder-trees  are  now  covered  with  a  kind 
of  black  bunches,  which  are  male  and  female 
flowers.  The  leaves  of  honeysuckles  are  nearly 
expanded,  violets  white  and  blue  appear,  and  daf- 
fodils, 

Which  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty. 


82  MARCH. 


RURAL    OCCUPATIONS. 

Cattle  still  require  feeding  in  the  yard.  Plough- 
ing and  sowing  are  now  going  on  vigorously, 
while  the  dry  March  air  favours  the  operation ; 
and  spring-wheat,  rye,  barley,  beans,  peas,  etc. 
are  got  in.  The  principal  fall  of  larnbs  takes 
place  now,  and  the  shepherds  are  full  of  cares. 
Night  and  day  they  must  be  on  the  watch  to  assist 
the  ewes,  to  cherish  weakly  lambs  with  wrarm 
milk,  to  restore  others  that  appear  dead  by  admi- 
nistering a  little  spirit ;  to  counteract  the  unnatural 
disposition  of  some  mothers  that  refuse  their  off- 
spring ;  or  to  find  foster-mothers  for  poor  orphans, 
which  is  often  done  by  clothing  them  in  the  skins 
of  the  dead  lambs  of  those  ewes  to  which  they  are 
consigned.  Others  for  which  no  foster-mothers 
can  be  found,  or  which  cannot  suck  on  account  of 
their  being  wry-necked,  are  reared  generally  by 
the  assistance  of  a  tea-pot  with  cow's  milk,  and 
are  called  cades  or  pets.  In  hilly  or  more  northern 
counties,  where  the  cold  is  greater,  and  the  grass 
not  so  early,  lambs  are  later  also,  even  till  far  in 
May.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  southern  counties, 
especially  wherever  the  Southdown  breed  of  sheep 
prevails,  the  fall  of  lambs  is  much  earlier,  many 
of  them  appearing  in  December,  and  in  February 
lamb  is  pretty  common  on  the  table  in  London. 
Many  of  these  lambs  are  house-lambs.  All  require 
great  attention.  The  shepherds  of  large  flocks 


MAHCII.  83 

have  a  house  built  in  a  quadrangle,  round  which 
there  are  sheds  where  the  ewes  and  their  lambs 
can  be  sheltered  and  fed  ;  and  a  fire  is  kept  up  day 
and  night  in  the  shepherd's  lodge,  to  which  any 
perishing  or  weakly  lambs  may  be  brought.  Their 
contrivances  also  in  the  fields  are  various  and  in- 
teresting. The  sheep  are  kept  upon  turnips,  so  as 
to  maintain  their  strength,  and  afford  sufficient 
nourishment  to  the  lambs;  screens  of  hurdles,  or 
straw,  or  fern,  are  raised  to  keep  off  the  wind,  and 
troughs  with  corn,  and  linseed-cake,  are  placed 
here  and  there  in  the  fields  where  they  feed,  also 
furnished  with  screens  of  wood,  hurdle,  or  other 
material,  at  once  to  protect  the  sheep  as  they  feed 
and  prevent  the  corn  being  blown  out  by  the  winds. 
Planting  and  plashing  of  hedges  should  now  be 
finished,  if  not  done  before ;  so  also  the  pruning 
and  grafting  of  fruit-trees,  and  the  planting  of 
deciduous  trees.  Timber  is  felled,  coppice-wood 
cut,  and  plantations  thinned,  if  not  done  in  Feb- 
ruary. Hop-plantations  are  formed,  and  the  old 
hills  are  cut  and  dressed.  Osiers  are  now  cut, 
preparatory  to  peeling :  when  cut,  they  are  set  on 
end  in  sheaves,  in  standing  water,  a  few  inches 
deep,  till,  by  the  ascension  of  the  sap  in  May,  they 
will  readily  peel.  Birch-trees  are  tapped  in  this 
month,  and  birch-wine  made :  some  trees  will  run 
twenty-four  gallons  in  as  many  hours.  There  are 
many  operations  in  the  garden  this  month;  digging, 
planting,  and  sowing.  Water  meadows  are  closed 
for  the  first  crop. 


84  MARCH. 


ANGLING. 

The  fresh-water  fish  which  are  about  spawning, 
or  are  more  or  less  out  of  season,  are  trout,  salmon, 
chub,  pike,  and  perch  :  roach  is  now  excellent,  and 
may  be  found  and  baited  for  as  in  last  month. 

As  fine  days  come  out,  the  angler  becomes 
anxious  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  his  old 
haunts ;  and  therefore,  having  his  tackle  all  in  good 
order  for  the  campaign,  he  issues  from  his  winter- 
quarters.  His  sport  is,  however,  a  good  deal  con- 
fined to  bottom-fishing,  principally  with  the  wrorm, 
the  warmth  not  having  yet  sufficiently  rendered  the 
fish  alert. 

Fly  baits.  This  month  the  same  flies  and  tackle 
as  in  the  last,  but  made  less:  also  the  wheeling  dun, 
or  bright  brown,  a  whitish  dun,  the  thorn-tree  fly, 
the  blue  dun,  the  black  gnat. 

MIGRATIONS    OF    BIRDS. 

ARRIVALS. 

Emberiza  Miliaria,  Bunting,  comes  March  3,  goes  Aug.  Haunts, 
Grassy  fields. 

Emberiza  Schceniclus,  Reed  Sparrow,  goes  Sept,  Marshes,  reedy 
streams. 

Larus  ridibundus,  Red-legged  Sea-mew,  comes  March  4,  goes  Aug.  12. 
The  be.ich. 

Oidicnemus  Bellonii,  Stone  Curlew,  goes  Sept.  Upland  fields,  sheep- 
walks. 

Regulus  Hippolais,  Least  Willow  Wren,  Chiff-chaff,  comes  March  23, 
goes  Sept.  Woods. 

Saxicola  (Enanthe,  Wheatear,  goes  Sept.    Ploughed  fields,  heaths. 


MARCH.  85 


DEPARTURES, 

Anas  Crecca,  Teal,  goes  March  6,  comes  Oct.  20.     Haunts,  Lakes  and 

streams. 

Anas  Penelope,  Widgeon,  comes  Nov.    Lakes  and  streams.  ' 

Corvus  Comix,  Roystan,  or  Hooded  Crow,  goes  March  22,  comes  Oct. 

3.    Downs. 

Falco  ^Esalon,  Merlin,  comes  Oct.  3.    Woods. 
Nyroca  ferina,  Red-headed  Pocher,  goes  March  3,  comes  Nov.  19. 

Fens. 
Scolopax  Gallinago,  Common  Snipe,  goes  March  6,  comes  Sept.  1. 

English  marshes. 

Scolopax  Gallinula,  Jack  Snipe,  comes  Sept.  10.    English  marshes. 
Scolopax  Rusticola,  Woodcock,  comes  Oct.  Dec.    North  of  Europe, 

copses. 
Strepsilas  interpres,   Common  Turnstone,  comes  Aug.      Sea-shore. 

Builds  in  Zetland. 
Sula  Bassana,  Ganet,  or  Solon  Goose,  comes  Sept.  Nov.    Scotch  isles, 

innumerable. 

Turdus  Iliacus,  Redwing  Thrush,  comes  Sept.  Nov.    Fields  generally. 
Turdus  pilaris,  Fieldfare,  comes  Sept.  Nov.    Fields  generally. 

The  greater  part  of  our  winter  birds  have  now 
left  us,  and  the  earliest  of  the  summer  ones  have 
arrived.  Some  of  the  snipes  remain  all  the  year. 
The  bunting  and  reed-sparrow  are  said  to  remain 
in  the  southern  counties  through  the  winter.  Of  this 
class  of  partially  migratory  birds  we  have  a  con- 
siderable number. 


CALENDAR    OF    THE    FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  III.    Order  1.    Iris  Susiana,  Chalcedonian  Iris.  4. 
Iris  tuberosa,  Snake's-head  Iris.  4. 
Iris  Persica,  Persian  Iris. 

V.  1.    Lonicera  nigra,  Black-leaved  Honeysuckle.  4. 
Pulmonaria  Virginica,  Virginian  Lungwort.  4. 
8 


86  MARCH. 


Borago  orientalis,  Perennial  Borage.  5. 

Allium  inodorum,  Scentless  garlic. 

Viola  calcarata,  Alpine  Violet.  6. 

VI.  1.    Narcissus  major,  Large  Daffodil. 

Narcissus  pseudo-narcissus,  Common  Daffodil.  4. 

Fritillaria  Imperialis,  Crown  Imperial.  4. 

Erythronium  Dens-canis,  Dog-tooth  Violet. 

Scilla  bifolia,  Two-leaved  Squill. 

Scilla  Amoena,  Early  flowering  Squill.  4. 

Hyacinthus  orientalis,  Garden  Hyacinth. 

Leucojum  vernum,  Snow-flake. 

VIII.  1.    Erica  Mediterranea,  Mediterranean  Heath.  5. 

Erica  australis,  Spanish  Heath.  7. 

Daphne  Mezereum,  Mezereon. 

X.  1.     Ledum  buxifolium,  Box-leaved  Ledum.  4. 

Rhododendron  Dauricum,  Dauric  Rhododendron. 

Andromeda  caliculata,  Globe-flowered  Andromeda.  4. 

Arbutus  Andrachne,  Eastern  Arbutus.  4. 

X.  2.    Saxifraga  crassifolia,  Thick-leaved  Saxifrage.  5. 

Saxifraga  cordifolia,  Heart-leaved  Saxifrage.  5. 

Saxifraga  ovata,  Great  Saxifrage.  4. 

XII.  1.    Amygdalus  nana,  Rough-leaved  Almond.  4. 

Amygdalus  communis,  Common  Almond.  4. 

Amygdalus  Siberica,  Siberian  Almond.  4. 

Prunus  Armeniaca,  Apricot-tree. 

XII.  5.    Rosa  semperflorens,  Red  China  Rose.  10. 

XIII.  1.     Sanguinaria  Canadensis,  Canada  Puccoon.  4. 

XIII.  7.     Anemone  Hepatica,  Common  Hepatica. 
Adonis  vernalis,  Spring  Adonis-flower.  4. 
Clematis  cirrhosa,  Evergreen  Virgin's  Bower.  4. 

XIV.  2.    Erinus  Alpinus,  Alpine  Erinus.  4. 

XV.  1.     Draba  azoides,  Hairy-leaved  Whitlow  Grass. 
XV.  2.    Cardamine  trifolia,  Three-leaved  Cardamine.  4. 
Arabis  Alpina,  Alpine  Wallcress.  5. 

XVII.  2.     Fumaria  cava,  Hollow  Fumitory. 

XIX.  2.    Tussilago  paradoxa.  Downy-leaved  Coltsfoot.  4. 

XXI.  3.    Comptonia  asplenifolia,  Fern-leaved  Gale.  4. 

XXII.  7.    Populus  balsamifera,  Tacamahac  Poplar. 


MARCH.  87 


SELECT    CALENDAR    OF    BRITISH    BOTANY. 

Class  III.     Order  1.     Crocus  vernus,  Purple  Spring  Crocus.     Locality, 

Meadows.     Duration,  4. 

Crocus  reticulatus,  Net-rooted  Crocus.     Pastures — Suffolk.  4. 
Triconema  Bulbocodium,  Channel-leaved  Triconema.     Guernsey.  4. 
Eriophorum  vaginatum,  Horse-tailed  Cotton  Grass.     Bogs.  4. 
V.  1.     Viola  odorata,  Sweet-scented  Violet.     Banks  and  woods.  5. 

V.  2.    Ulmus  campestris,  cum  aliis.    Small-leaved  Elm,  with  others. 

Hedges.  4. 

VI.  1.     Narcissus  pseudo-narcissus,  Common  Daffodil.     Woods  and 
pastures.  4. 

Ornithogalum  luteum,  Yellow  Star  of  Bethlehem.    Woods.  4. 
Scilla  bifolia,  Two-leaved  Squill.     Woods,  rare.  4. 
VIII.  1.     Daphne  Mezereum,  Mezereon.     Woods,  rare.  4. 
Daphne  Lauriola,  Spurge  Laurel.    Woods  and  Hedges.  4. 
XII.  1.     Prunus  spinosa,  Sloe,  or  Blackthorn.     Hedges.  4. 

XII.  3.     Potentilla  Fragariastrum,  Barren  Strawberry.     Banks.  6. 

XIII.  3.     Anemone  Pulsatilla,  Pasque  Flower.     Chalky  pastures.  5. 
Ranunculus  Ficaria,  Lesser  Celindine.     Banks.  5. 

Caltha  palustris,  Marsh  Marigold.     Wet  places.  5. 

XIV.  1.     Glechoma  hederacea,  Ground  Ivy.     Banks.  6. 

XV.  2.     Cardamine  hirsuta,  Hairy  Cardamine.     Moist  shady  places.  6. 
XIX.  2.  Tussilago  Farfara,  Coltsfoot.     Moist  shady  places.  4. 
Bellis  perennis,  Daisy.     Pastures.  10. 

XXI.  1.    Euphorbia  amygdaloides,  Wood  Spurge.    Woods.  4. 
XXI.  3.     Alnus  glutinosa,  Common  Alder.     River  sides.  4. 

XXI.  5.  Corylus  Avellana,  Hazel  Nut.     Woods.  4. 

XXII.  1.  Salix  purpurea,  cum  aliis.    Bitter  purple  Willow,  with  others. 
Meadows.  4. 

XXII.  2.     Ruscus  aculeatus,  Butcher's  Broom.     Heaths  and  woods.  4. 
XXII.  6.  Populus  alba,  cum  aliis.    White  Poplar,  with  others.    Moist 
woods.  4. 


SELECT    CALENDAR    OF    BRITISH    INSECTS. 

Cicindela  campestris.     Haunts,  sandy  fields.    To  7. 

Leistus  spinibarbis.     Sandy  situations.     To  5. 

Leistus  fulvibarbis.    Under  stones ;  damp  places.    To  9. 


88  MARCH. 

PoGcilus  dymidiatus.    Dry  banks,  basking  in  the  sunshine.    To  5. 

Poecilus  cupreus.     Pathways.     To  7. 

Pfficilus  rufifemoratus.     Pathways  in  the  north.     To  7. 

Stomis  pumicatus.     Moist  places.     To  7. 

Gyrinus  natator.    Surface  of  the  water.    To  10. 

Gyrinus  aeneus     Surface  of  the  water.    To  9. 

Necrophorus  Mortuorum.    Dead  animals  in  woods.    To  10. 

Byrrhus  pilula.     Pathways  in  sandy  places.     To  8. 

Necrophorus  Vespillo,  Sexton  Beetle.   Dead  animals  in  woods.  To  10. 

Dorcus  parallelipipedus,  Lesser  Stag  Beetle.    Rotten  Ash-trees.    To  8. 

Opilus  mollis.    Rotten  trees ;  in  woods.    To  7. 

Pogonocerus  hispidus.    Decayed  trees.    To  7. 

Chrysomela  Litura.    Broom.    To  6. 

Timarcha  coriaria.    Heaths.    To  8. 

Coccinella  22-punctata,  22-Spotted  Lady-bird.    Weedy  banks.    To  9. 

Pedinus  femoralis.    Sandy  sea-coast.    To  4. 

Proscarabaeus  vulgaris.     Sunny  banks.     To  5. 

Corixa  Geoffroyi.     Ponds  and  ditches.     To  10. 

Macroglossa  Stellatarum,  Humming  Bird.    Gardens.    To  3,  6,  and  9. 

Brepha  Parthenias,  Orange  Underwing.    Willow  blossoms.    To  3,  6, 

and  9. 
Brepha  notha,  Light  Orange  Underwing.    Willow  blossoms.    York. 

To  3,  6,  and  9. 
Anisopteryx  vEscularia,  March  Moth.    Willow  blossoms.    York.    To 

3,  6,  and  9. 

Mr.  Stephens  has  mentioned,  on  the  authority  of 
several  Continental  entomologists,  some  of  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  larva?  of  the  genus  Cicindela.  The 
depth  of  their  cylindric  retreat  (eighteen  or  nineteen 
inches)  appears  to  be  much  greater  on  the  Continent 
than  with  us.  I  have  examined  in  all  the  stages  of 
the  larvas  more  than  thirty  holes,  inhabited  by  the 
Cicindela  campestris,  and  have  never  found  one  ex- 
ceeding six  inches,  the  majority  not  more  than  four 
or  five.  It  is  worth  inquiry  whether  this  difference 
depends  on  climate,  or  whether  each  species  is  pecu- 
liar in  this  respect. 


MARCH.  89 

Poecilus  rufifemoratus.  This  insect,  which  ap- 
pears to  be  not  uncommon  in  the  north,  is  sparingly 
taken  in  the  sand  district  of  Nottinghamshire.  With 
the  exception  of  the  Pedinus  femoralis,  the  whole  of 
the  Coleoptera  of  the  above  list  are  more  or  less 
common  in  this  neighbourhood.  Mr.  Bunting,  of 
Mansfield,  informs  me  that  Necrophorus  Mortuorum 
is  frequently  found  on  the  Phajlus  impudicus. 

Necrophorus  Vespillo.  Most  writers  on  ento- 
mology have  noticed  the  fact  that  this  species  is  in 
the  habit  of  burying  moles  or  birds  a  considerable 
depth  in  the  ground,  in  order  to  deposit  its  eggs  in 
them.  In  this  neighbourhood  both  the  Vespillo  and 
Sepultor,  and  also  the  Necrodes  littoralis,  pursue  the 
same  plan ;  and  I  should  imagine  most  of  our  large 
Necrophaga  do  the  same. 


APRIL. 


Thou  visitest  the  earth,  and  waterest  it ;  thou  greatly  enrichest  it 
with  the  river  of  God,  which  is  full  of  water ;  thou  prepares!  them 
corn,  when  thou  hast  so  provided  for  it. 

Thou  waterest  the  ridges  thereof  abundantly ;  thou  settlest  the  fur- 
rows thereof;  thou  makest  it  soft  with  showers;  thou  blessest  the 
springing  thereof. 

Thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness,  and  thy  paths  drop 
fatness. 

They  drop  upon  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  little  hills 
rejoice  on  every  side. 

The  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks,  and  the  valleys  also  are 
covered  over  with  corn  ;  they  shout  for  joy ;  they  also  sing. 

PSALMS  Ixv.  9-13. 


THE  month  of  April  is  proverbial  for  its  fickle- 
ness; for  its  intermingling  showers,  and  flitting 
gleams  of  sunshine ;  for  all  species  of  weather  in 
one  day ;  for  a  wild  mixture  of  clear  and  cloudy 
skies,  greenness  and  nakedness,  flying  hail  and 
abounding  blossoms.  But  to  the  lover  of  nature, 
it  is  not  the  less  characterized  by  the  spirit  of 
expectation  with  which  it  imbues  the  mind.  We 
are  irresistibly  led  to  look  forward,  to  anticipate, 
with  a  delightful  enthusiasm,  the  progress  of  the 
season.  It  is  one  of  the  excellent  laws  of  Provi- 
dence, that  our  minds  shall  be  insensibly  moulded 
to  a  sympathy  with  that  season  which  is  passing, 


APRIL.  91 

and  become  deprived,  in  a  certain  degree,  of  the 
power  of  recalling  the  images  of  those  which  are 
gone  by ;  whence  we  reap  the  double  advantage  of 
not  being  disgusted  with  the  deadness  of  the  wintry 
landscape,  from  a  comparison  with  the  hilarity  of 
spring;  and  when  spring  itself  appears,  it  comes 
with  a  freshness  of  beauty  which  charms  us  at 
once  with  novelty,  and  a  recognition  of  old  de- 
lights. Symptoms  of  spring  now  crowd  thickly 
upon  us :  however  regular  may  be  our  walks,  we 
are  daily  surprised  at  the  rapid  march  of  vegetation, 
at  the  sudden  increase  of  freshness,  greenness,  and 
beauty  ;  one  old  friend  after  another  starts  up  be- 
fore us  in  the  shape  of  a  flower.  The  violets 
which  came  out  in  March  in  little  delicate  groups, 
now  spread  in  myriads  along  the  hedge-rows,  and 
fill  secluded  lanes  with  their  fragrance.  In  some 
springs,  however,  though  most  abundant,  yet,  per- 
haps owing  to  the  dryness  of  the  weather,  they  are 
almost  scentless.  The  pilewort,  or  lesser  celandine, 
too,  is  now  truly  beautiful,  opening  thousands  and 
tens  of  thousands  of  its  splendidly  gilt  and  starry 
flowers  along  banks,  and  at  the  feet  of  sheltered 
thickets  ;  so  that,  whoever  sees  them  in  their  per- 
fection>  will  cease  to  wonder  at  the  admiration 
which  Wordsworth  has  poured  out  upon  them  in 
two  or  three  separate  pieces  of  poetry.  Anemones 
blush  and  tremble  in  copses  and  pastures  ;  the  wild 
cherry  enlivens  the  woods ;  and  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Nottingham  the  vernal  crocus  presents  a 
unique  and  most  beautiful  appearance,  covering 


92  APRIL. 

many  acres  of  meadow  with  its  bloom  ;  rivalling 
whatever  has  been  sung  of  the  fields  of  Enna ; 
gleaming  at  a  distance  like  a  perfect  flood  of  lilac, 
and  tempting  very  many  little  hearts,  and  many 
graver  ones  too,  to  go  out  and  gather. 

The  blossom  of  fruit-trees  presents  a  splendid 
scene  in  the  early  part  of  the  month,  gardens  and 
orchards  being  covered  with  a  snowy  profusion  of 
plum-bloom;  and  the  blackthorn  and  wild  plum 
wreathe  their  sprays  with  such  pure  clustering 
flowers,  that  they  gleam  in  the  shadowy  depths  of 
woods  as  if  their  boughs  radiated  with  sunshine. 
In  the  latter  part  of  the  month,  the  sweet  and 
blushing  blossom  of  apples  and  the  wilding  fill  up 
the  succession,  harmonizing  delightfully  with  the 
tender  green  of  the  expanding  leaves,  and  continu- 
ing through  part  of  May. 

The  catkins  or  pendulous  flowers  of  many  of 
the  trees  are  now  peculiarly  beautiful ;  those  of  the 
birch  hang  like  golden  tassels,  and  especially  where 
these  elegant  trees  abound,  as  they  do  in  the  roman- 
tic defiles  of  the  Trosachs ;  ranging  themselves 
stem  above  silvery  stem  up  the  rocky  heights,  they 
present  a  lovely  aspect.  Those  of  the  Tacamahac 
hang  large  and  abundant,  and  with  the  young  un- 
folding leaves  diffuse  a  fine  aromatic  odour.  The 
ash-trees  are  quite  black  with  their  large  conglome- 
rated buds,  which  gradually  unfold  themselves  into 
tufts  of  fibres,  whence  the  keys  afterwards  depend. 
The  alder  too  is  covered,  as  in  the  end  of  last 
month,  with  its  dark  bunches ;  and  the  elm  is  per- 


APRIL.  93 

fectly  shrouded  in  its  hop-like  blossoms  till  the  end 
of  May.  The  flowering  of  this  tree,  so  striking 
and  beautiful,  yet  so  little  noticed  by  poets,  has  been 
introduced  into  some  beautiful  lines  referring  to  this 
season — 

When  daisies  blush,  and  windflowers  wet  with  dew ; 
When  shady  lanes  with  hyacinths  are  blue  ; 
When  the  elm  blossoms  o'er  the  brooding  bird, 
And  wild  and  wide  the  plover's  wail  is  heard ; 
When  melts  the  mist  on  mountains  far  away, 
Till  morn  is  kindled  into  brightest  day. 

Author  of  "  Corn  Law  Rhymes" 

But  perhaps  the  most  delightful  of  all  the  features 
of  this  month  are  the  return  of  migratory  birds,  and 
the  commencement  of  building  their  nests.  Not 
only  the  swallow  tribe,  the  cuckoo,  and  the  night- 
ingale, whose  arrival  is  noticed  by  almost  every 
body,  but  scores  of  other  old  acquaintances  suddenly 
salute  you  in  your  walks  with  their  well-remembered 
aspects  and  notes.  White-throats,  whinchats,  reed- 
sparrows,  etc.  perched  on  their  old  haunts,  and  fol- 
lowing their  diversified  habits,  seem  as  little  fatigued, 
or  strange,  as  if  they  had  worn  invisible  jackets  all 
winter,  and  had  never  left  the  spot.  The  sweet 
voice  of  the  turtle-dove  is  again  heard  in  the  woods 
of  the  southern  counties.  There  is  something  truly 
delightful  to  the  naturalist  in  the  beauty  of  birds' 
nests,  and  the  endless  variety  of  colours,  spots,  and 
hieroglyphic  scrolls,  on  their  eggs ;  the  picturesque 
places  in  which  they  are  fixed,  from  the  lapwing's 


94 


Al'KiL. 


on  the  naked  fallow,  to  that  of  the  eagle  in  its  lofty 
and  inaccessible  eyrie ;  in  the  different  degrees  of 
art  displayed,  from  the  rude  raft  of  a  few  sticks, 
made  by  the  wood-pigeon,  to  the  exquisite  little 
dome  of  the  golden-crested  wren,  or  the  long-tailed 
titmouse  (parus  caudatus),  a  perfect  oval  stuck 
between  the  branches  of  a  tree,  having  a  small  hole 
on  one  side  for  entrance ;  the  interior  lined  with  the 
most  downy  feathers,  enriched  with  sixteen  or 
seventeen  eggs,  like  small  oval  pearls ;  and  the 
exterior  most  tastefully  decorated  with  a  profusion 
of  spangles  of  silvery  lichen  on  dark-green  moss. 

Boys  are  completely  absorbed  in  their  admiration 
of  birds'  nests.  In  vain  do  parents  scold  about  torn 
clothes,  scratched  hands,  shoes  spoiled  with  dew ; 
every  field  and  wood  is  traversed,  every  bush  ex- 
plored :  no  tree  is  too  high,  no  rock  too  dangerous 
to  climb ;  sticks  split  at  the  end  are  thrust  into  every 
hollow  in  wall,  eaves,  or  tree-trunk,  to  twist  out  the 
hidden  nest ;  and  I  myself  recollect  being  held  by 
the  heels  over  an  old  coal-pit  sixty  yards  deep,  to 
reach  a  blackbird's  nest  built  in  a  hole  two  or  three 
feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ground. 

But  it  is  not  boys  merely  who  are  struck  with  the 
beauty  of  birds'  nests  and  eggs,  and  with  the  pic- 
turesque situations  in  which  they  are  placed  ;  there 
are  few  people  of  taste  residing  in  the  country  who 
do  not  see  them  with  a  lively  pleasure.  Let  us  take 
a  survey  of  these  interesting  objects.  Let  us  sup- 
pose that  we  are  in  an  old  farm-house.  The 
chimney  is  inhabited  by  the  swallow,  and  the  eaves 


APRIL.  95 

by  the  martin,  who  have  there  fixed  there  mud 
nests,  lined  them  with  feathers,  and  laid  in  them 
their  five  or  six  white  eggs  spotted  with  red ;  and 
so  strongly  are  these  little  creatures  attached  to  the 
places  of  their  birth,  that  it  is  well  known  that  they 
return  to  them  after  flight  across  the  ocean  and 
abode  in  some  distant  land.  A  lady  of  my  ac- 
quaintance had  a  nest  of  martins  above  her  chamber 
window,  which,  by  some  accident,  fell  when  the 
young  were  about  half-fledged.  She  had  them,  four 
in  number,  laid  in  a  basket  lined  with  feathers  in  the 
chamber  window,  where  the  old  birds  fed  them  till 
they  were  able  to  fly.  The  following  spring  four 
martins  flew  in  at  this  window,  which  happened  to 
stand  open,  flew  round  and  round  the  room  uttering 
the  most  joyful  warblings  imaginable,  then  flew  out 
again  and  proceeded  to  build  their  nests  just  over 
the  window.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  these 
were  the  four  identical  birds  of  the  basket,  the  old 
ones  either  having  probably  perished,  or  having  taken 
a  disgust  to  the  spot  where  they  had  been  alarmed  by 
the  fall  of  their  nest. 

The  sparrows  have  found  a  crevice  in  the  eaves, 
or  the  roof,  or,  if  it  be  of  thatch,  have  scooped 
themselves  a  large  hole,  and  therein  made  their 
nests  of  hay,  lined  them  with  feathers,  and  laid, 
each  pair,  five  black-spotted  eggs.  In  defect  of  a 
good  situation  in  the  house,  they  disdain  not  to  fix 
their  nest,  like  a  wisp  of  hay,  in  a  tree  near  it.  They 
delight,  too,  to  build  amongst  the  sticks  of  rook-nests, 
particularly  under  the  mud  bottom,  which  forms  a 


96  APRIL. 

brave  roof  and  defence  against  rain  for  them.  In 
windy  weather,  however,  the  rook-nests  are  fre- 
quently blown  down;  and  the  sparrows,  in  great 
numbers,  share  their  fate.  The  spotted  fly-catcher 
has  found  a  square  hole  in  the  wall,  or  a  branch  of 
a  tree  trained  against  it,  where  its  nest  and  red- 
spotted  eggs  are  deposited.  If  it  be  a  half-timbered 
house,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  that  the  redstart  has  found 
a  hole  too,  in  one  of  the  upright  timbers,  in  which 
its  nest  and  sea-green  eggs  are  deposited ;  or  the 
little  tomtit  has  occupied  that  post.  This  active 
slittle  bird,  which  we  see  in  the  shrubbery  swinging 
about  at  the  ends  of  slender  boughs  in  pursuit  of 
caterpillars,  etc.  will  sometimes  become  so  tenacious 
of  its  dwelling,  that  I  have  known  one  build  within 
the  window-frame  of  a  sitting-room,  which,  when 
any  of  the  family  knocked  on  the  wood  close  to  its 
nest,  would  immediately  reply  by  several  smart  raps 
with  its  bill.  This  answer  was  never  omitted  during 
the  period  of  incubation  by  the  bird,  which  built 
there  for  several  successive  years.  This,  and  most 
other  birds  which  build  about  the  habitations  of  men, 
very  commonly  depart  from  that  regularity  of  instinct 
which  prompts  them  to  employ  only  material  of  a 
certain  kind  in  their  nests,  and  gather  up  pieces  of 
cotton,  shreds  of  cloth,  and  even  needles  and  thread, 
which  have  been  found  worked  up  into  these  curious 
motley  fabrics.  I  have,  indeed,  a  blackbird's  nest 
which  I  found  in  the  meadows  very  near  Notting- 
ham. It  was  built  in  a  hedge  just  by  a  water-course, 
from  which  a  great  quantity  of  flags  had  been  cut ; 


APRIL.  97 

and  of  these  dried  flags  it  had  constructed  the  base 
and  exterior  of  its  nest  of  such  a  size,  owing  to  this 
bulky  material,  and  so  interwoven  it  with  large 
pieces  of  paper  with  which  its  vicinity  to  the  town 
had  supplied  it,  as  to  form  one  of  the  strangest  sights 
imaginable.  The  same  departure  from  the  uni- 
formity of  material  may  be  observed  in  situations 
where  the  article  commonly  used  is  not  to  be  found ; 
otherwise,  in  selection  of  materials,  in  the  degree  of 
ingenuity  displayed  in  putting  them  together,  in 
choice  of  situation,  every  bird  adheres  exactly  to 
the  practice  of  its  species  and  ancestry,  and  that 
without  instruction.  This  is  one  of  the  marvels  of 
instinct. 

In  the  barn  there  is  the  owl;  and  amongst  the 
old  crooked  trees  of  the  orchard,  a  great  variety  of 
bird  habitations.  In  one  hollow  tree  the  wry-neck 
has  built;  in  another,  the  ox-eye;  in  a  third,  the 
starling.  The  missel-thrush  has  constructed  a  nest 
large  as  a  man's  head,  of  hay  and  wool,  which  often 
hang  in  large  waving  locks,  in  the  pear-tree.  Its 
eggs,  like  those  of  the  w7ater-hen  and  the  crake,  are 
marked  with  large  pink  spots.  The  wren  has  in- 
serted its  oval  nest  of  green  moss,  leaving  only  a 
small  side-entrance,  into  the  roof  of  a  shed,  or  into 
the  stump  of  an  old  ivied  thorn ;  and  so  sensitive  is 
this  little  creature,  that  if  her  nest  be  only  touched 
with  a  finger,  she  will  very  seldom  enter  it  again. 
The  chaffinch  delights  to  build  its  beautiful  nest, 
spangled  with  silvery  lichens,  and  lined  with  soft 
cow-hair,  in  the  apple-tree  ;  the  goldfinch,  on  the 

9 


98  APRIL. 

very  topmost  bough  of  the  pear;  and  the  small 
brown  linnet  (fringilla  linaria)  often  builds  too  in  the 
latter  situation.  Its  nest  is  of  the  most  beautiful  de- 
scription, fabricated  of  a  mixture  of  moss  and  wool, 
and  lined  with  the  pure  white  down  of  the  willow 
catkin;  the  whole  interior  not  much  exceeding  in 
size  the  hollow  half  of  a  hen's  egg.  Its  eggs,  five 
in  number,  are  of  a  delicate  bluish-gray,  brown 
spotted. 

In  the  orchard  hedge  too  is  commonly  found  the 
nest  of  the  hedge-sparrow, — called  often  too  the 
foolish  sparrow,  because  it,  perhaps  more  than  any 
other  bird,  has  the  trouble  of  hatching  the  cuckoo's 
egg,  and  rearing  its  young  at  the  expense  of  its  own, 
imposed  upon  it.  Whether  the  cuckoo  is  guilty  of 
sucking  the  eggs  of  small  birds,  at  least  to  the  extent 
commonly  supposed,  is  to  me  doubtful.  That  vast 
quantities  are  sucked,  is  certain.  I  have  found 
abundance  of  nests  with  the  shells  in  them  newly 
emptied ;  but  it  is  probable  that  snakes,  mice,  and 
more  especially  weasels,  are  more  frequently  the 
delinquents.  I  have  myself  seen  snakes  climbing 
in  the  hedges  in  a  very  suspicious  manner ;  and 
weasels  and  stoats,  we  know,  will  visit  the  farm-yard, 
and  make  vast  havoc  with  the  eggs  of  all  sorts  of 
tame  fowl.  The  principal  food  of  the  cuckoo  con- 
sists certainly  of  caterpillars ;  having,  to  ascertain 
this  point,  shot  one  while  uttering  its  note,  and  found 
its  crop  distended  with  caterpillars  of  various  kinds. 
But  for  some,  no  doubt  very  sufficient  reason,  the 
small  birds  do  consider  the  cuckoo  their  enemy,  and 


APRIL.  99 

pursue  it  with  angry  cries.  Some  naturalists  ima- 
gine that  they  mistake  it  for  a  hawk ;  but  I  take 
them  to  be  better  judges,  and  to  know  a  cuckoo 
from  a  hawk  rather  better  than  the  acutest  natu- 
ralist of  them  all.  They  have  doubtless  good  reasons 
for  their  enmity,  if  we  could  hear  them ;  and  for 
these  reasons  they  pursue  them  often  in  a  crowd, 
and  mob  them  till  they  sometimes  completely  con- 
found them.  In  this  situation  I  saw  one,  one  sum- 
mer day,  on  Bulwell  Common  in  Nottinghamshire, 
and  ran  up  to  it,  and  clapped  my  hat  upon  it ;  its 
little  enemies  sitting  round  it  so  blinded  by  their  rage, 
that,  had  i  had  another  hat,  I  verily  believe  I  could 
have  caught  some  of  them  too.  However,  when 
they  flew  away,  I  liberated  the  poor  cuckoo,  who 
flew  upon  a  neighbouring  tree,  and  soon  recovered 
sufficient  composure  to  resume  his  favourite  cry.  I 
say,  favourite  cry ;  for  they  have  another  strange, 
quaint,  bubbling  cry,  very  little  noticed  by  natu- 
ralists.— But  again  to  our  eggs. 

If  we  step  into  the  field,  we  find  in  the  grass  at 
our  feet  the  nests  of  various  species  of  lark,  with 
their  dark  brown  speckled  eggs ;  the  whinchat's, 
with  its  eggs  of  sea-green;  and  the  partridge's, 
with  perhaps  fifteen  eggs  of  a  deep  cream  colour. 
So  closely  does  the  partridge  sit  during  incubation, 
that  the  mower  often  unawares  cuts  off  its  head 
with  his  scythe.  In  the  banks,  now  luxuriant  with 
green  herbs,  the  yellow-hammer  builds  a  nest  of 
grass,  and  lines  it  with  fine  fibrous  roots  and  horse- 
hair ;  and  lays  five  eggs  of  a  palish  purple,  orna- 


100  APRIL. 

mented  with  deep  purple  flourishes  of  a  hiero- 
glyphic-like  appearance.  The  robin  too  builds  in 
the  bank,  and  his  nest  may  be  immediately  known 
by  the  brown  withered  leaves  collected  at  its  door, 
so  to  speak,  as  if  he  always  bore  them  in  his 
escutcheon,  in  memory  of  his  meritorious  behaviour 
to  "  the  Babes  in  the  Wood."  The  fame  of  that 
good  deed  is  his  perpetual  defence.  None  but  the 
most  hardened  and  graceless  lads  will  rob  a  wren 
or  a  robin,  for,  says  their  legend — 

Robinets  and  Jenny  Wrens 

Are  God  Almighty's  Cocks  and  Hens. 

And  it  is  likewise  a  tradition  amongst  them,  that  if 
you  rob  either  of  these  the  cows  will  give  bloody 
milk.  On  the  banks  too,  or  in  the  outskirts  of  a 
thicket,  or  where  some  thorns  have  been  laid  and 
the  tall  grass  has  grown  up  amongst  them,  the  little 
willow-wren  builds  an  oval  nest  after  the  fashion  of 
the  common  wren  and  the  feather-poke,  and  lays 
a  great  number  of  eggs  in  a  mass  of  warm  feathers. 
The  eggs  of  all  these  birds  are  much  alike  in  colour; 
of  a  pale  delicate  bloom  with  red  spots.  The  white- 
throat  builds  in  almost  every  wild  rose-bush  a  thin 
gauzy  nest  of  the  dry  stalks  of  the  ladies'-bed-straw, 
or  suspends  it  amongst  the  fresh-growing  nettles,  and 
lays  five  eggs  of  a  tawny  colour,  brown  spotted. 
Very  similar  to  these  are  the  nest  and  eggs  of  the 
black-cap,  or  common  warbler,  as  the  bird  itself,  ex- 
cepting its  black  head,  is  similar  to  the  white-throat 
in  shape,  colour,  and  habit.  Its  nest,  however,  is  more 


APRIL.  101 

densely  built,  and  is  often  placed  in  a  shrub  or  bush 
in  the  garden,  and  its  eggs  are  larger  and  more 
strongly  coloured.  Under  hollow  banks,  amongst 
the  "  old  fantastic  roots"  of  trees,  especially  over- 
hanging a  brook,  the  blackbird  deMghts'to  baild  its 
nest  of  dry  bents,  daubed  internally  with  mud,  and 
lined  with  soft  dry  grass.  Its  eggs,,iii  eomiiicfa  wfcTr 
those  of  the  rook,  crow,  and  magpie,  are  pale  sea- 
green,  and  brown  spotted.  In  such  situations  the  wren 
too  loves  to  build,  and  the  thrush.  But  the  thrush, 
above  all  things,  likes  to  place  its  nest  by  the  side  of 
a  young  fir-tree  in  a  plantation.  In  young  larch  and 
spruce  woods  they  may  be  found  by  hundreds ;  the 
nest  uncommonly  deep,  lined  only  with  mud,  or 
mud  and  cow-dung.  Its  eggs  are  of  a  bright  sea- 
green,  with  large  circular  black  spots.  They  are 
very  beautiful. 

In  the  woods  the  nest  of  the  jay  may  be  found, 
in  the  lower  trees,  particularly  the  wilding, — a 
large  nest  of  moss,  with  eggs  coloured  like  those  of 
the  missel-thrush.  The  wood-pigeon  builds  on  lofty 
fir-trees,  or  trees  covered  with  ivy.  The  nest  is  a 
mere  layer  of  sticks,  through  which  the  two  white 
eggs  may  be  often  seen  from  the  ground.  The 
hawk  chooses  the  tops  of  the  loftiest  trees;  and 
the  magpie's  nest  may  be  seen  in  early  spring  in 
the  tops  of  the  leafless  trees, —  a  large  cone  of  thorns, 
which  is  daubed  internally  with  mud,  and  lined  with 
fine  fibrous  roots.  It  sometimes  also  builds  in  tall 
hawthorn  hedges.  Wherever  it  be,  wild  or  tame, 
it  is  the  monkey  of  birds,  full  of  mischief  and 
9* 


102  APRIL. 

mimicry.  A  gentleman  told  me,  that  one  he  kept, 
having  stolen  various  articles,  was  watched  by  him 
narrowly ;  and  at  length  was  seen  by  him  busy  in 
the  garden  gathering  pebbles,  and  with  much  solem- 
'riity  and  a 'Studied  air  dropping  them  into  a  hole 
about  eighteen  inches  deep,  made  to  receive  a  line- 
'jpOsti '  Affer  dropping  each  stone,  it  cried  "carack!" 
triumphantly,  and  set  off  for  another.  Making  him- 
self sure  that  he  had  found  the  objects  of  his  search, 
the  gentleman  went  to  the  place  and  found  in  the 
hole  a  poor  toad  which  the  magpie  was  stoning  for 
his  amusement. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  birds  is  the  lapwing. 
Its  plaintive  cry  belongs  to  solitary  places.  On  the 
barren  pasture,  or  bare  fallow,  it  lays  its  eggs  in  a 
little  hollow  in  the  naked  earth.  They  are  of  a 
pale,  dull  ochre  colour,  darkly  spotted,  large,  very 
broad  at  one  end,  and  very  narrow  at  the  other. 
The  curious  appearance  of  these  birds,  the  anxiety 
of  their  cries  as  they  wheel  about  you,  their  strata- 
gems to  decoy  you  from  their  nests,  or  young  ones, 
neither  of  which  are  readily  found,  interest  you 
strongly  in  their  favour.  The  instinct  of  their 
young  is  wonderful.  Like  those  of  the  partridge, 
they  have  scarcely  emerged  from  the  shell  when 
they  begin  to  run  from  the  nest,  and  by  squandering 
themselves  in  the  fallow,  or  the  turf  of  the  pasture, 
are  not  so  readily  observed  as  if  they  lay  in  a 
group.  The  moment  they  hear  the  cry  of  alarm  of 
their  parents  in  the  air,  they  lie  close  to  the  ground, 
and  may  easily  be  mistaken  for  little  brown  lumps 


APRIL.  103 

of  earth.  If  you  discover  and  take  them  up,  they 
continue  motionless.  If  you  lay  them  down,  they 
retain  the  posture  you  may  happen  to  place  them 
in ;  and  although  you  hide  yourself  from  their  view, 
they  will  rigidly  maintain  the  same  inanimate  atti- 
tude while  the  old  birds  continue  their  soaring  aloft, 
and  their  cries,  though  it  were  for  a  day.  The  mo- 
ment the  parent  birds  alight,  they  lift  up  their  heads 
and  run  cheerfully  about. 

Here  I  must  stop :  were  I  to  proceed  to  the  lake 
and  the  reedy  marsh,  to  the  large  flaggy  nests  of  the 
water-hen,  the  coot,  the  wild  duck  and  goose,  the 
snipe,  the  plover,  etc.,  I  might  write  a  volume :  yet 
all  and  each,  in  material,  in  curious  construction,  in 
colour  of  the  eggs,  in  picturesqueness  of  situation, 
have  distinguishing  characteristics,  strongly  marked 
by  that  hand  of  varied  and  exhaustless  beauty  which 
has  constructed  so  wonderfully  the  whole  world,  and 
to  all  the  myriads  of  living  creatures  has  given  so 
peculiar  a  difference  of  figure,  habits,  and  disposi- 
tion. 


April  is  so  called  from  the  Latin  Aprilis,  which 
is  derived  from  Aperire,  to  open.  The  allusion  is 
obvious.  The  Saxons  called  it  Osier  or  Easter- 
monalh,  from  the  feast  of  the  goddess  Eastre. 

The  following  description  of  this  season  of  the 
year  is  by  Gawain  Douglas,  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  as 
modernized  by  Dr.  Warton : — 

"  Fresh  Aurora,  the  wife  of  Tithonus,  issued  from 


104  APRIL. 

her  saffron  bed  and  ivory  house,  She  was  clothed 
in  a  robe  of  crimson  and  violet  colour;  the  cape 
vermillion,  and  the  border  purple.  She  opened  the 
windows  of  her  handsome  hall,  overshadowed  with 
roses  and  filled  with  balm  or  nard.  At  the  same 
time  the  crystal  gates  of  heaven  were  thrown  open 
to  illumine  the  world.  It  was  glorious  to  see  the 
winds  appeased,  the  sea  becalmed,  the  soft  season, 
the  serene  firmament,  the  still  air,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  watery  scene.  The  silver-scaled  fishes,  on  the 
gravel  gliding  hastily,  as  it  were  from  the  heat,  or 
seen  through  clear  streams,  with  fins  shining  brown 
as  cinnabar,  and  chisel-tails,  darted  here  and  there. 
The  new  lustre,  enlightening  all  the  land,  beamed 
on  the  small  pebbles  on  the  sides  of  rivers,  and  on 
the  strands,  \vhich  looked  like  beryl,  while  the  re- 
flection of  the  rays  played  on  the  banks  in  variegated 
gleams.  The  bladed  soil  was  embroidered  with 
various  hues.  Both  wood  and  forest  were  darkened 
with  boughs,  which  reflected  from  the  ground  gave 
a  shadowy  lustre  to  the  red  rocks.  Towns,  turrets, 
battlements,  and  high  pinnacles  of  churches,  castles, 
and  of  every  fair  city,  seemed  to  be  painted ;  and, 
together  with  every  bastion  and  story,  expressed 
their  own  shapes  on  the  plains.  The  glebe,  fearless 
of  the  northern  blasts,  spread  her  broad  bosom.  The 
corn  crops  and  the  new-sprung  barley  reclothed  the 
earth  with  a  gladsome  garment.  The  variegated 
vesture  of  the  valley  clothed  the  cloven  furrow,  and 
the  barley-lands  were  diversified  with  flowery  weeds. 
The  meadow  was  besprinkled  with  rivulets,  and  the 


APRIL.  105 

fresh  moisture  of  the  dewy  night  restored  the  herbage 
which  the  cattle  had  cropped  in  the  day.  The  blos- 
soms in  the  blowing  garden  trusted  their  heads  to 
the  protection  of  the  young  sun.  Rank  ivy  leaves 
overspread  the  walls  of  the  rampart.  The  blooming 
hawthorn  clothed  all  the  thorns  in  flowers.  The 
budding  clusters  of  the  tender  grapes  hung  end-long 
by  their  tendrils  from  the  trellises.  The  germs  of 
the  trees  unlocking,  expanded  themselves  into  the 
foliage  of  Nature's  tapestry.  There  was  a  soft 
verdure  after  balmy  showers.  The  flowers  smiled 
in  various  colours  on  the  bending  stalks ;  some  red, 
others  watchet,  like  the  blue  and  wavy  sea,  speckled 
with  red  and  white,  or  bright  as  gold.  The  daisy 
embraided  her  little  coronet.  The  grass  stood  em- 
battled with  banewort ;  the  seeded  down  flew  from 
the  dandelion.  Young  weeds  appeared  among  the 
leaves  of  the  strawberries  and  gay  gilliflowers.  The 
rose-buds,  putting  forth,  offered  their  red  vernal  lips 
to  be  kissed,  and  diffused  fragrance  from  the  crisp 
scarlet  that  surrounded  their  golden  seeds.  Lilies, 
with  white  curling  tops,  showed  their  crests  open. 
The  odorous  vapour  moistened  the  silver  webs  that 
hung  from  the  leaves.  The  plain  was  powdered 
with  round  dewy  pearls.  From  every  bud,  scion, 
herb,  and  flower  bathed  in  liquid  fragrance,  the  bee 
sucked  sweet  honey.  The  swans  clamoured  amid 
the  rustling  reeds,  and  searched  all  the  lakes  and 
gray  rivers  where  to  build  their  nests.  The  red  bird 
of  the  sun  lifted  his  coral  crest,  crowing  clear  among 
the  plants  and  bushes,  picking  his  food  from  every 


106  APRIL. 

path,  and  attended  by  his  wives,  Toppa  and  Partlet. 
The  painted  peacock  with  gaudy  plumes  unfolded 
his  tail  like  a  bright  wheel,  enshrouded  in  his  silver 
feathers,  resembling  the  marks  of  the  hundred  eyes 
of  Argus.  Among  the  boughs  of  the  twisted  olive, 
the  small  birds  framed  the  artful  nest,  or  along  the 
thick  hedges,  or  rejoiced  with  their  merry  mates  in 
the  tall  oaks.  In  the  secret  nook,  or  in  the  clear 
windows  of  glass,  the  spider  full  busily  wove  her  sly 
net  to  ensnare  the  gnat  or  fly.  Under  the  boughs 
that  screen  the  valley,  or  within  the  pale-enclosed 
park,  the  nimble  deer  trooped  in  ranks,  the  harts 
wandered  through  the  thick  wood  shaws,  and  the 
young  fawns  followed  the  dappled  does.  Kids 
slipped  through  the  briers  after  the  roes,  and  in  the 
pastures  and  leas  the  lambs  bleated  to  their  dams. 
The  ringdove  coos  in  the  tall  copse,  the  starling 
whistles  her  varied  descant ;  the  sparrow  chirps  in 
the  clefted  wall;  the  goldfinch  and  linnet  fill  the 
skies;  the  cuckoo  cries,  the  quail  twitters;  while 
rivers,  shaws,  and  every  dale  resound;  and  the 
tender  branches  tremble  on  the  trees,  at  the  song  of 
the  birds  and  the  buzzing  of  the  bees." 

LEAFING  OF  TREES.  In  Sweden  the  budding  and 
leafing  of  the  birch-tree  is  considered  as  a  directory 
for  sowing  barley;  and  as  there  is  something  ex- 
tremely sublime  and  harmonious  in  that  idea,  I 
flatter  myself  an  account  of  it  will  be  acceptable. 

Mr.  Harold  Barck,  in  his  ingenious  dissertation 
upon  the  foliation  of  trees,  published  in  the  Amoen. 
Acad,  vol.  iiL,  informs  us  that  the  illustrious  Linnaeus 


APRIL.  107 

had,  in  the  most  earnest  manner,  exhorted  his  coun- 
trymen to  observe,  with  all  care  and  diligence,  at 
what  time  each  tree  unfolds  its  buds  and  expands 
its  leaves ;  imagining,  and  not  without  reason,  that 
his  country  would  at  some  time  or  other  reap  some 
new  and  perhaps  unexpected  benefit  from  observa- 
tions of  this  kind  made  in  different  places. 

As  one  of  the  apparent  advantages,  he  advises 
the  prudent  husbandman  to  watch,  with  the  greatest 
care,  the  proper  time  for  sowing ;  because  this,  with 
Divine  assistance,  produces  plenty  of  provision,  and 
lays  the  foundation  of  the  public  welfare  of  the  state, 
and  of  the  private  happiness  of  the  people.  The 
ignorant  farmer,  tenacious  of  the  ways  and  customs 
of  his  ancestors,  fixes  his  sowing-season  generally 
to  a  month,  and  sometimes  to  a  particular  week, 
without  considering  whether  the  earth  be  in  a  proper 
state  to  receive  the  seed ;  from  whence  it  generally 
happens  that  what  the  sower  sowed  with  sweat,  the 
reaper  reaps  with  sorrow.  The  wise  economist 
should,  therefore,  endeavour  to  fix  upon  certain  signs 
whereby  to  judge  of  the  proper  time  for  sowing. 
We  see  trees  open  their  buds  and  expand  their 
leaves,  from  whence  we  conclude  that  spring  ap- 
proaches, and  experience  supports  us  in  the  conclu- 
sion ;  but  nobody  has,  as  yet,  been  able  to  show  us 
what  trees  Providence  has  intended  should  be  our 
calendar,  so  that  we  might  know  on  what  day  the 
countryman  ought  to  sow  his  grain.  No  one  can 
deny  but  that  the  same  power  which  brings  forth 
the  leaves  of  trees,  will  also  make  the  grain  vege- 


108  APRIL. 

tate;  nor  can  any  one  assert  that  a  premature 
sowing  will  always,  and  in  every  place,  accelerate 
a  ripe  harvest.  Perhaps,  therefore,  we  cannot  pro- 
mise ourselves  a  happy  success  by  any  means  so 
likely,  as  by  taking  our  rule  for  sowing  from  the 
leafing  of  the  trees.  We  must,  for  that  end,  observe 
in  what  order  every  tree  puts  forth  its  leaves.  To 
these  most  ingenious  remarks  Mr.  Barck  has  added 
the  order  of  the  leafing  of  trees  in  Sweden.  Mr. 
Stillingfleet  is  the  only  person  that  has  made  correct 
observations  upon  the  foliation  of  the  trees  and 
shrubs  of  this  kingdom.  The  following  is  his 
calendar,  made  in  Norfolk,  1765: — 

1.  Honeysuckle      .    .     Jan.  15  19.  Marsh  Elder  .    .    .  April  11 

2.  Gooseberry   .     .     .    Mar.  11  20.  Wych  Elm     ..."       12 

3.  Currant "11  21.  Quicken  Tree     .    .    "      13 

4.  Elder    .    , -.    .    .    .    "    11  22.  Hornbeam      ..."      13 

5.  Birch April  1  23.  Apple  Tree    ..."      14 

6.  Weeping  Willow  .    .    "      1         24.  Abele "      16 

7.  Raspberry     .    ..."      3  25.  Chestnut    .    .     .     .    "      16 

8.  Bramble "3         26.  Willow "      17 

9.  Brier "4         27.  Oak "18 

10.  Plum "6  28.  Lime "  19 

11.  Apricot "6  29.  Maple "  21 

12.  Peach "6  30.  Walnut "  2l 

13.  Filbert "7  31.  Plane "  21 

14.  Sallow "7  32.  Black  Poplar      .    .  "  21 

15.  Alder "7  33.  Beach "  21 

16.  Sycamore      .     ..."      9  34.  Acacia  Robinia  .     .  "  21 

17.  Elm "10  35.  Ash "  22 

18.  Quince "10  36.  Carolina  Poplar .    .  "  22 

In  different  years,  and  in  different  soils  and  expo- 
sitions, these  trees  and  shrubs  vary  as  to  their  leaf- 
ing, but  they  are  invariable  as  to  their  succession. 


APRIL.  109 

being  bound  down  to  it  by  Nature  herself:  a  farmer, 
therefore,  who  would  use  this  sublime  idea  of  Lin- 
naeus, should  diligently  mark  the  time  of  budding, 
leafing,  and  flowering  of  different  plants.  He  should 
also  put  down  the  days  on  which  his  respective 
grains  were  sown ;  and,  by  comparing  these  two 
tables  for  a  number  of  years,  he  will  be  enabled  to 
form  an  exact  calendar  for  his  spring  corn.  An 
attention  to  the  discolouring  and  falling  of  the  leaves 
of  plants  will  assist  him  in  sowing  his  winter  corn, 
and  teach  him  to  guess  at  the  approach  of  winter. 
Towards  the  end  of  September,  which  is  the  best 
season  for  sowing  wheat,  he  will  find  the  leaves  of 
the 

Plane  Tree,  tawny.  Ash,  fine  lemon. 

Oak,  yellowish  green.  Elm,  orange. 

Hazel,  yellow.  Hawthorn,  tawny  yellow. 

Sycamore,  dirty  brown.  Cherry,  red. 

Maple,  pale  yellow.  Hornbeam,  bright  yellow. 

Appearances  of  this  sublime  nature  may  be  com- 
pared to  the  writing  on  the  wall,  which  was  seen 
by  many  but  understood  by  few.  They  seem  to 
constitute  a  kind  of  harmonious  intercourse  between 
God  and  man.  They  are  the  silent  language  of  the 
Deity. 

Mr.  Young  has  endeavoured  to  ascertain  the  time 
of  sowing  by  another  method  ;  but  the  temperature 
of  the  season,  with  respect  to  heat  and  cold,  drought 
and  rain,  differs  in  every  year.  Experiments  made 
this  year  cannot  determine  for  the  next.  The  hints 
of  Linnaeus  constitute  an  universal  rule  for  the  whole 
10 


110  APRIL. 

world  ;  because  trees,  shrubs,  and  herbs,  bud,  leaf, 
and  flower,  and  shed  their  leaves  in  every  country 
according  to  the  different  seasons. — Hunter's  edition 
of  Evelyn's  Sylva. 

The  kite  now  approaches  farm-houses  and  vil- 
lages in  search  of  food  and  materials  to  construct 
his  nest ;  at  all  other  times  he  carefully  avoids  the 
haunts  of  man.  In  April,  or  early  in  the  next  month, 
the  lapwing,  or  peewit,  (vanellus  cristatus,)  lays  her 
eggs  and  sits,  for  she  makes  no  rest.  The  beech, 
the  larch,  and  the  elm  are  now  in  full  leaf.  The 
larch  also  exhibits  its  red  tufts  of  flowers,  which 
soon  expand  into  cones  ;  and  the  fir  tribe  show  their 
cones  also.  The  yellow  Star  of  Bethlehem  blooms 
in  woods  and  by  small  streams.  Also  the  vernal 
squill  among  maritime  rocks,  and  the  wood-sorrel 
on  banks  and  in  shady  places. 

There  is  a  singular  appearance  often  observed  in 
spring,  which  has  excited  many  a  superstitious  ter- 
ror in  the  minds  of  the  simple  country  people,  and 
in  reality  is  very  striking.  It  is  the  print  of  foot- 
steps across  the  grass  of  the  fields,  as  though  they 
had  been  footsteps  of  fire.  The  grass  is  burnt  black 
in  the  footprints,  presenting  a  startling  contrast 
with  the  vivid  green  of  that  around.  The  common 
people  have  consequently  concluded  these  to  be  the 
traces  of  the  nocturnal  perambulations  of  Satan ; 
whereas  they  are  those  of  some  one  of  themselves 
who  has  crossed  the  fields  while  the  night-frost  was 
on  the  grass,  which  at  this  season  is  very  tender, 
and  is  as  effectually  destroyed  by  the  pressure  of  a 


APRIL.  Ill 


foot,  in  its  frosty  brittleness,  as  by  fire,  and  with 
much  the  same  appearance. 


RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 


Feeding  cattle  in  the  yard  still  continues,  from 
deficiency  of  grass.  Fields  intended  for  mowing  are 
cleared  of  stones,  bush-harrowed,  and  shut  up ;  all 
ditching,  hedging,  and  draining,  better  done  last 
month,  but  if  unfinished,  to  be  concluded.  Water- 
meadows,  which  have  been  eaten,  closed  at  the  end 
of  the  month.  Sowing  still  continues  of  spring  corn, 
peas,  tares,  sainfoin,  lucerne,  and  grasses ;  also  the 
sowing  and  planting  of  woad,  madder,  flax,  hemp, 
mustard,  rape,  poppy,  rhubarb,  and  other  medicinal 
plants ;  at  the  end  of  the  month  planting  mangel- 
wurzel,  carrots,  and  Swedish  turnips.  Early  pota- 
toes are  planted.  Hops  are  poled,  and  the  ground 
between  the  rows  dressed.  Evergreens  are  planted, 
as  holly,  yew,  and  the  fir  tribes.  Poultry  broods 
are  now  numerously  hatched,  and  demand  much  of 
the  good  housewife's  care.  The  anxieties  attending 
the  raising  of  young  poultry  are  far  from  incon- 
siderable. Watching  for,  and  discovering  the  nests, 
particularly  of  ducks,  turkeys,  and  guinea-fowls, 
which  are  fond  of  laying  away  in  hedge-bottoms 
and  beds  of  nettles  ;  securing  and  preserving  eggs, 
setting  them,  and  observing,  from  time  to  time,  that 
they  are  not  broken,  or  addle  ;  sprinkling  them  with 
water  as  they  approach  the  time  of  hatching ;  sup- 
plying the  sitting  fowls  daily  with  food  and  water ; 


112  APRIL. 

assisting  the  chicks  occasionally  to  escape  from  the 
shell,  and  removing  them,  as  they  appear,  to  the 
house,  till  the  whole  brood  is  hatched.  In  farm- 
kitchens,  in  spring,  we  perpetually  hear  a  chirping  of 
chickens,  ducklings,  goslings,  etc.  and  see  a  basket 
set  near  the  fire,  covered  with  a  flannel ;  or  a  wor- 
sted stocking  rolling  about  the  hearth,  like  a  great 
snake,  with  here  and  there  the  head  of  a  chicken 
peeping  through  a  hole.  They  have  next  to  be 
placed  under  a  coop,  which  confines  the  hen  till 
they  are  strong  enough  to  follow  her,  and  are  fed 
with  those  various  compounds  which  good  house- 
wives prepare.  It  is  a  common  practice  to  give 
each  young  turkey  a  peppercorn  the  first  thing ;  but 
good  judges  disapprove  of  it,  and  prefer  to  feed  them 
with  chopped  docks  and  oatmeal.  It  is  also  very 
requisite  that  young  turkeys  should  be  supplied  with 
good  sharp  gravel.  Soft  or  friable  sand  will  not 
do.  The  most  successful  rearers  of  turkey  broods 
assure  me  that  they  found  it  impossible  to  keep  them 
from  dying  in  great  numbers  till  they  gave  them 
pounded  glass,  or  what  is  better,  pounded  pebbles, 
since  which  they  seldom  lose  any.  Many  broods 
of  young  poultry,  and  especially  turkeys,  which,  as 
they  are  the  hardiest  of  birds  when  grown,  are  cer- 
tainly the  most  tender  at  first,  must  have  a  careful 
lad  to  tend  them,  and  to  see  that  the  hen  does  not 
weary  them  by  her  wanderings,  or  tread  upon  them, 
which  she  is  very  apt  to  do ;  that  they  are  not  over- 
taken by  rain,  or  get  into  other  dangers,  not  the 
least  of  which  is  being  carried  off  by  weasels,  or 


APRIL.  113 

polecats,  which  often  lurk  about  farm-yards  for  the 
purpose  of  seizing  eggs  and  young  poultry.  A 
white  terrier  of  mine,  on  one  occasion,  drew  from 
its  burrow,  which  it  had  made  under  some  wood  in 
a  stable,  a  large  polecat,  and  fifteen  young  ducklings 
which  it  had  carried  off  from  the  adjoining  farm- 
yard within  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  to  the  great 
marvel  of  the  farmer's  wife,  who  missed  the  duck- 
lings one  after  another,  but  could  not  perceive  how 
they  went — Such  are  the  cares  of  hatching-time. 

ANGLING. 

Grayling,  perch,  dace,  are  not  in  best  season,  nor 
chub,  till  the  middle  of  the  month  :  nor  barbel  during 
the  latter  half  of  it.  Salmon  is  improving ;  and  trout 
comes  in,  and  may  be  sought  in  his  beautiful  clear 
streams  with  a  minnow,  or  palmer-worm,  or  with 
the  fly.  The  chub  takes  the  worm,  and  the  pike 
the  lobworm,  minnow,  or  other  small  fish.  The 
tench  is  a  lively  prey  this  month,  bating  with  a  good 
worm.  Cotton  says  the  grayling  is  never  out  of 
season,  and  reckons  him  yet  a  winter  fish.  Walton 
declares  him  to  be  "  a  pleasant  fish  and  a  jolly  in 
mid  April  and  May,  and  in  the  hot  months."  Flies : 
• — all  those  of  March ;  also  small  bright  brown ; 
dark  brown ;  from  the  6th  to  the  10th,  the  violet 
fly;  about  the  12th,  the  little  wheeling  dun,  yellow 
dun,  little  brown ;  about  the  20th,  the  horse-fly  to 
the  end  of  the  month. 

10* 


114  APRIL. 


MIGRATION  OF  BIRDS. 
ARRIVALS. 

Charadrius    Hiaticula,    Ring    Dottrel,    comes    April,    goes    August. 

Haunts,  Sea-shore. 
Columba  Turtur,  Turtle  Dove,  goes  Sept.    Woods  in  Kent,  Surrey, 

etc. 

Coturnix  vulgaris,  Quail,  goes  Aug.  Sept.    Grassy  fields. 
Cuculus   canorus,   Cuckoo,  comes  early  in  April,  goes  July,  Aug. 

Frelds,  generally. 
Curruca  luscinia,  Nightingale,  comes  April  15,  goes  Aug.    Woods 

and  copses. 

Curruca  sylvia,  Whitethroat,  goes  Sept.    Hedges  and  bushes. 
Curruca    sylviella,    Lesser    Whitethroat,    goes   Sept.      Hedges    and 

bushes. 
Curruca  atricapilla,  Black-cap,   comes    April   13,  goes   September. 

Gardens. 

Curruca  locustella,  Grasshopper  Lark,  goes  Sept.    Brakes  and  bushes. 
Curruca  hortensis,  Pettychaps,  goes  Sept.    Shrubberies  in  Southern 

counties. 

Curruca  sibillatrix,  Wood  Wren,  goes  Sept.    Beech  and  oak  woods. 
Cypselus  Apus,  Swift,  comes  April  24,  goes  Aug.  15.    Eaves  and 

towers. 

Fratercula  arctica,  Puffin,  goes  Aug.    North  coasts. 
Hirundo  rustics,  Swallow,  comes  April  13,  goes  Sept.  Nov.  Chimneys. 
Hirundo  riparia,  Sand  Martin,  goes  Oct.    SandclifTs  near  water. 
Hirundo  urbica,  Martin,  goes  Oct.    Eaves. 
Motacilla  flava,  Yellow  Wagtail,  goes  Sept.    Green  corn. 
Muscicapa  atricapilla,  Pied  Flycatcher,  goes  Sept.    Woods. 
Rallus  aquaticus,  Water  Rail,  goes  Oct.    Sedgy  waters. 
Saxicola  rubetra,  Whinchat,  comes  April   13,  goes  Sept.     Grassy 

meadows. 

Sterna  Hirundo,  Common  Tern,  goes  Sept    Sea-shores. 
Sterna  minuta,  Lesser  Tern,  goes  Sept.    Sea-shores. 
Sterna  Boysii,  Sandwich  Tern,  goes  Sept.    Sea-shores  of  Suffolk  and 

Kent. 

Sterna  Dugalli,  Roseate  Tern,  goes  Sept.    Scottish  sea-shores. 
Sterna  nigra,  Black  Tern,  goes  Sept.    Fens,  lakes,  and  rivers. 
Sylvia  PJwenicurus,  Redstart,  goes  Oct.    Orchards  and  old  walls. 


APRIL.  115 

Totanus  calidris,   Redshank,  comes  April   10,  goes  Oct.  29.     Salt 

marshes. 
Totanus  Hypoleucos,  Common  Sandpiper,  goes  Oct.    Pebbly  margins 

of  streams. 

Tringa  pugnax,  Ruff,  goes  Sept.    Fens. 

Turdus  torquatus,  Ring  Ousel,  goes  Sept.    Mountainous  parts. 
Vanellus  cristatus,  Lapwing,  goes  Aug.    Barren  fields  and  heaths. 
Yunx  Torquilla,  Wryneck,  comes  early  in  April,  goes  June,  Aug. 

.Orchards  and  hollow  trees. 


DEPARTURES. 

Larus  noevius,  Grey  Gull,  goes  April  10,  comes  Aug.  4.    Haunts, 

Beach. 
iLarus  argentatus,  Blue,  or  Herring  Gull,  goes  April  10,  comes  Aug. 

Beach. 

Loxia  curvirostra,  Crossbill,  comes  Aug.    Orchards. 
•Otus  brachyotus,  Short-eared  Owl,  comes  Oct.     Woods  and  hilly 

tracts. 
;Spathulea  clypeata,  Common   Shoveller,  comes  Oct.     Fresh-water 

lakes. 

Totanus  fuscus,  Cambridge  Godwit,  comes  Aug.    Sea-shore. 
Totanus  ochropus,  Green  Sandpiper,  comes  Sept.     Sea-shore. 
Totanus  striata,  Purple  Sandpiper,  comes  Aug.    Sea-shore. 


MIGRATION  OF  SWALLOWS. 

The  subject  of  the  migration  of  the  swallow  tribe 
has  been  agitated  by  naturalists  from  remote  anti- 
quity. Many  foolish  notions  upon  it  have  been  ad- 
vanced, which  are  now  very  properly  abandoned ; 
and  the  inquiry  may  be  said  to  be  set  at  rest.  One 
would  wonder,  indeed,  when  we  consider  that,  by 
the  lightness  of  their  bodies,  and  their  length  and 
speed  of  wing,  they  are,  of  all  birds,  the  best  calcu- 
lated for  migration,  how  a  doubt  could  have  arisen 


116  APRIL. 

on  the  subject.  But  they  come,  it  is  said,  with 
great  secrecy,  and  go  with  great  secrecy !  So 
does  the  heavy  woodcock ; — and  yet  no  one  ever 
doubted  of  the  migration  of  that  plethoric  bird, 
whose  usual  flight  is  not  many  hundred  yards.  A 
few  are  sometimes  seen  after  the  rest  have  de- 
parted, on  the  breaking  out  of  a  few  fine  days; 
and  a  few,  which  in  spring  appear  first,  as  sud- 
denly disappear  on  the  return  of  cold.  Can  this  be 
any  wonder  in  birds  of  such  velocity  ?  Some  how- 
ever have  been  found  in  a  dormant  state  here. 
This  is  a  fact : — but  a  fact  only  of  a  few,  and  of 
rare  occurrence;  and  proves  no  more  than  that, 
when  accident  prevents  their  departure,  Nature  has 
given  them  the  power  of  so  existing.  But  of  all 
the  absurd  hypotheses  broached  on  this  head,  that 
of  their  remaining  at  the  bottom  of  pools  and 
marshes  under  water,  during  the  winter,  is  the 
most  preposterous.  Dissection  has  proved  that 
they  have  no  organic  provision  for  such  a  state, 
and  could  not  live  half  an  hour  in  submersion ;  so 
that  we  are  obliged  to  sacrifice  our  love  of  the 
marvellous  and  mysterious,  and  let  the  poor  birds 
go,  as  Nature  has  given  them  power,  to  the 
southern  lands  of  summer. 

The  whinchat  and  yellow  wagtail  are  said  to 
remain  in  the  southern  counties  through  the  winter 
but  they  disappear  from  the  northern  and  midland 
ones.  The  ring-ousel  merely  passes  through  this 
country  on  its  spring  and  autumnal  journeys,  stay- 
ing a  few  days  in  some  particular  spots.  In  the 


APRIL.  117 

north  of  England  and  Scotland,  they  too  remain  all 
the  year. 

CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  II.  Order  1.    Syringa  vulgaris,  Blue  Lilac.  5. 

III.  1.     Iris  pumilla,  Dwarf  Iris. 

IV.  1.    Cornus  florida,  Great  flowering  Dogwood.  5. 

V.  1.    Lonicera  Tartarica,  Tartarian  Honeysuckle.  5. 

Rhamnus  Alaternus,  cum  var.    Common  Alaternus,  with  varieties.  6. 

Pulmonaria  angustifolia,  Narrow-leaved  Lungwort. 

Polemonium  reptans,  Creeping  Greek  Valerian.  5. 

Primula  villosa,  Hairy  Primula.  5. 

Primula  uivea,  Snowy  Primula.  5. 

Primula  marginata,  Margined  Primula.  5. 

Primula  Auricula,  cum  aliis.  Common  Yellow  Auricula,  with  others.  5. 

Dodecatheon  media,  American  Cowslip.  6. 

Soldanella  Alpina,  Alpine  Soldanella. 

Cyclamen  Europaeum,  European  Cyclamen. 

Phlox  subulata,  Awl-leaved  Lychnidea.  5. 

Phlox  setacea,  Bristly  Lychnidea.  5. 

Nemophila  insignis,  Blue  Nemophila.  8. 

Violae,  mult.    Violets,  various.  5. 

Vinca  major,  Greater  Periwinkle.  7. 

Vinca  minor,  Lesser  Periwinkle.  7. 

V.  2.    Gentiana  acaulis,  Gentianella.  5. 

Genliana  verna,  Spring  Gentian. 

V.  3.    Staphylea  pinnata,  Fine-leaved  Bladdernut.  6. 

VI.  1.    Fritillaria  Meleagris,  Chequered  Fritillary. 
Fritillaria  latifolia,  Broad-leaved  Fritillary. 
Fritillaria  Persica,  Persian  Fritillary. 
Berberes,  mult.    Barberries,  various. 
Narcissus  majalis,  Large-flowered  Narcissus.  5. 
Narciseus  incomparabilis,  Peerless  Daffodil.  5. 
Narcissus  Jonquilla,  Jonquil.  5. 

Narcissus   Hispanicus,  cum  aliis.    Spanish   White    Narcissus,   with 

others.  5. 

Tulipa  sylvestris,  Italian  yellow  Tulip.  5. 
Tulipa  Gesneriana,  Common  Garden  Tulip.  5. 
Ornithogalum  nutans,  Nodding  Star  of  Bethlehem.  5. 
Ornithogalum  umbellatum,  Umbellate  Star  of  Bethlehem.  5. 


118  APRIL. 

Scilla  Italica,  Italian  Squill.  7. 

Hyacinthus  muscari,  Musk  Hyacinth.  5. 

VI.  I.    Hyacinthus  comosus,  Purple  Grape  Hyacinth. 

Hyacinthus  racemosus,  Starch  Hyacinth. 

Amaryllis  lutea,  Yellow  Amaryllis. 

VIII.  1.    Erica  arborea,  Tree  Heath.  6. 

IX.  1.     Laurus  nobilis,  Sweet  Bay.  5. 

X.  1.    Kalmia  glauca,  Glaucus  Kalmia. 
Ledum  palustre,  Marsh  Rosemary.  5. 

Ledum  v.  decumbens,  Dwarf  Marsh  Kusemary.  5. 

X.  2.    Saxifraga  granoides,  Crane's-bill-leaved  Saxifrage.  5. 

Saxifraga  hypnoides,  Mossy  Saxifrage.  5. 

X.  4.    Lychnis  quadridentata,  Small-flowering  Lychnis. 

XII.  1.    Amygdalus  Persica,  Peach  Tree.  5. 

Amygdalus  v.  nectaria,  Nectarine.  5. 

Prunus  Lauro-ceratus,  Common  Laurel.  5. 

Prunus  Lauro-ceratus,  v.  jlnre  pleno,  Double-flowered  Laurel. 

Prunus  Cerasus,  v.  flore  plena,  Double  flowered  Cherry. 

XII.  2.    Crataegus  coccinea,  American  Hawthorn.  3. 

XII.  4.    Spiraea  Hypericifolia,  Hypericum-leaved  Spiraea.  5. 

Spiraea  crenata,  Crenated  Spiraea.  5. 

Spiraea  sorbifolia,  Mountain-ash-leaved  Spiraea. 

XII.  5.    Rosa  cinnamomea,  flore  pleno,  Double  Cinnamon  Rose.  5. 

XIII.  5.    Aquilegia  Canadensis,  Canadian  Columbine.  5. 

XIII.  7.    Magnolia  obovata,  Purple  Chinese  Magnolia.  5. 
Clematis  florida,  Large-flowered  Virgin's  Bower.  9. 
Clematis  v.  fore  pleno,  Double  Virgin's  Bower. 
Ranunculus  amplexicaulis,  Plaintain-leaved  Ranunculus. 
Anemone  coronaria,  Common  Garden  Anemone.  5. 
Anemone  nemoralis,  flore  pleno,  Double  Anemone.  5. 
Anemone  Pulsatilla,  Pasque  Flower.  5. 

Anemone  vernalis,  Spring  Anemone. 

XIV.  1.  Iberis  sempervirens,  Evergreen  Candy-tuft.  6. 
Alyssum  saxatile,  Shrubby  Madwort.  5. 

XIV.  2.    Hesperis  tristis,  Night-smelling  Rocket.  6. 

XV.  2.     Cheiranthus  fruticulosis.  Wallflower.  11. 

XVI.  5.  Geranium  reflexum,  Reflex-flowered  Crane's-bill.  6. 
Coronilla  Erneris,  Scorpion  Senna.  6. 

XIX.  2.     Bellis  perennis,  Common  Daisy.  8. 

XXI.  7.     Arum  tenifolium,  Slender-leaved  Arurn.  6. 

Arum  Arisarum,  Friar's  Cowl  Arum.  6. 

XXI.  8,    Cupressus  Thyoides,  Arbor-vitae-leaved  Cypress.  5. 


APRIL.  119 


SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY, 

Class  I.  Order  1.  Chara  flexilis,  Smooth  Chara.  Locality,  Ditches 
and  ponds.  Duration,  8. 

II.  1.    Fraxinus  excelsior,  Common  Ash  Tree.  Woods  and  hedges.  5. 
Veronica  verna,  cum  aliis.    Vernal  Speedwell,  with  others.    Barren 

sand. 

III.  1.    Fedia  olitoria,  Lamb's  Lettuce.    Corn-fields.  6. 
Eriophorum  angustifolium,  Common  Cotton  Grass.    In  bogs. 

V.  1.    Myosotis  versicolor,  Yellow  and  Blue  Scorpion  Grass.     Dry 

shady  places.  6. 

Primula  vulgaris,  Primrose.    Woods  and  banks.  5. 
Primula  elatior,  Oxlip.    Banks  and  pastures.  5. 
Primula  veris,  Cowslip.     Pastures.  5. 

Cyclamen  hederifolium,  Common  Cyclamen.    Woods,  rare.  5. 
Viola  hirta,  Hairy  Violet.    Banks.  6. 
Viola  palustris,  Marsh  Violet.    Bogs.  6. 
Viola  canina,  Dog's  Violet.    Woods,  8. 
Ribes  Grossularia,  Wild  Gooseberry.    Woods  and  hedges. 
Ribes  petrseum,  Wild  Currant 

V.  2.    Gentiana  verna,  Spring  Gentian.     Mountains. 

VI.  1.     Narcissus  biflorus,  Pale  Narcissus.     Sandy  fields.  5. 
Fritillaria  Meleagris,  Fritillary.     Meadows.  5. 

Tulipa  sylvestris,  Wild.     Chalk  hills  and  meadows.  5. 

Ornithogalum  umbellatum,  Common  Star  of  Bethlehem.  Mea- 
dows. 6. 

Ornithogalum  nutans,  Drooping  Star  of  Bethlehem.    Meadows.  5. 

Scilla  verna,  Vernal  Squill.    Rocks  by  the  sea. 

VIII.  3.  Adoxa  moschatellina,  Tuberous  Moschatel.  Damp 
hedges.  5. 

X.  2.  Chrysosplenium  alternifolium,  Alternate-leaved  Golden  Saxi- 
frage. Wet  places.  5. 

Chrysosplenium  oppositifolium,  Opposite-leaved  Golden  Saxifrage. 
Wet  places.  5. 

Saxifraga  oppositifolia,  Purple  Saxifrage.    Alpine  rocks.  6. 

Saxifraga  granulata,  White  Meadow  Saxifrage.    Meadows.  6. 

Saxifraga  trydactylites,  Rue-leaved  Saxifrage.    Walls  and  ruins. 

X.  4.    Oxalis  Acetosella,  Wood  Sorrel.    Damp  Woods.  5. 

XII.  3.     Potentilla  verna,  Spring  Cinquefoil.    Mountainous  rocks.  6. 

XIII.  3.    Anemone  nemorosa,  Wood  Anemone.    Woods.  5. 
Anemone  Apennina,  Blue  Mountain  Anemone.    Groves,  rare.  5. 


120  APRIL. 

Anemone  ranunculoides,  Yellow  Wood  Anemone.    Groves,  rare. 

Ranunculus  auricomus,  Goldilocks.    Woods.  6. 

XIV.  1.    Lamium  album,  White  Dead  Nettle.    Road-sides.  10. 

XIV.  2.    Lathrsea  squamaria,  Great  Toothwort.    A  parasite  on  the 
roots  of  the  Nut  and  Elm.  5. 

XV.  2.    Cardamine  pratensis,  Cuckoo  Flower.    Meadows.  6. 
Cardamine  amara,  Bitter  Cardamine.    Moist  places.  5. 
Barbarea  vulgaris,  Common  Cress  Rocket.    Banks  and  streams.  8. 
Cheiranthus  fruticulosus,  Wild  Wallflower.    Ruins.  5. 

XVI.  2.    Geranium  molle,  Dove's  foot  Crane's  bill.    Way-sides.  8. 

XVII.  1.    Fumaria  solida,  Bulbous  Fumitory.    Thickets.  5. 
XIX.  1.  Leontodon  Taraxacum,  Dandelion.    Road-sides.  6. 

XIX.  2.    Tussilago  Petasites,  Butter-bur.    Wet  meadows.  5. 

XX.  1.    Orchis  mascula,  Early  Purple  Orchis.   Pastures  and  woods.  5- 
Ophrys  aranifera.    Early  Spider  Orchis.    Chalk  pastures. 

XXI.  2.    Carex  riparia,  cum  aliis.     Great  River  Carex,  with  others. 
Banks  of  rivers.  5. 

XXI.  5.    Quercus  Robur,  Common  Oak.    Woods  and  hedges. 
Quercus  sessiflora,  Sessile-fruited  Oak.    Woods  and  hedges.    5. 
Fagus  sylvatica,  Common  Beech.    Woods.  5. 

Betula  alba,  Common  Birch.    Mountainous  woods.  5. 

XXII.  1.    Salix  Russelliana,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Bedford  Willow,  with 
many  others.    Hedges.  5. 

XXII.  7.    Mercurialis  perennis,  Perennial  Mercury.    Banks.  5. 
XXIV.  1.    Equisetum  sylvaticum,  Branched  Wood  Horse-tail.    Moist 

woods.  6. 
Equisetum  fluviatile.    Great  Water  Horsetail.    Moist  Woods.  6. 


SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Cicindela  riparia.  Localities,  Coast  of  Lancashire,  etc.    Months,  to  5. 
Cicendela  aprica.    Coast  of  Lancashire,  etc.    To  5. 
Clivina  Fossor.    Moist  places.    To  10. 
Carabus  hortensis.     Gardens  and  sandy  pathways.    To  8. 
Carabus  clathratus.    Coast  of  Ireland,  and  in  Scotland  on  the  moun- 
tains.   To  6. 

Leistus  refescena.    Woods  amongst  moss.    To  6. 
Chlenius  nigricornis.    Moist  banks.    And  9. 

Platynus  angusticollis.    Under  bark  and  at  the  roots  of  trees.    And  6. 
Broschus  cephalotes.    On  the  coast,  under  rejectamenta.    And  5. 
Abax  striola.     Under  stones  in  woods.    And  8. 
Elaphrus  riparius.    Banks  of  rivers  and  ponds.    And  8. 


APRIL.  121 

Blethisa  multipunctata.    Moist  banks  in  the  south.    And  5. 
Helophorus  aquaticus.     Weeds  in  ponds.    And  10. 
Hydrobius  picipes.      )  T 
Hydrobius  fuscipes.    ^"  ^gnant  pools.    And  9. 

Silpha  obscura.    Pathways.    And  8. 

Phosphuga  atrata.    Pathways  and  woods.    And  7. 

Attagenus  Pellio.    Houses  and  sandy  places.    And  10. 

Hister  unicolor.    Horse  and  cow-dung,  and  dead  animals.    And  9. 

Sinodendron  cylindricum.    Rotten  trees.     And  6. 

Copris  lunaris. 

Onthophagus  Tauris. 

Onthophagus  Coenobita. 

Onthophagus  nuchicornis.  ?     Under  danS  in 

Onthophagus  nutans. 

Onthophagus  ovatus. 

Typhoeus  vulgaris,  the  Bull-comber.    Under  dung  on  heaths. 

Geotrupes  vernalis,  Vernal   Dor-beetle.      Under   dung  on   hearths. 

And  9. 
Anobium  tesselialum,  Death  watch.     Old  houses  and  rotten  trees. 

And  5. 

Rynchites  Bacchus.    On  the  Sloe  and  Whitethorn.     And  5. 
Chrysomela  sanguinolenta.    Weedy  banks.    To  5. 
Timarcha  tenebricosa.    Bloody-nosed  Beetle.    Heaths,  etc.    To  8. 
Opatrum  sabulosum.     Sandy  places.    To  8. 
Melandrya  caraboides.    Decayed  trees.    To  6. 
Proscarabasus  violaceus.    Sunny  banks.    To  6. 
Staphylinus  aeneocephalus.    Pathways.    To  6. 
Gryllotalpa  vulgaris,  Mole-cricket.    Moist  ground.    To  5. 
Pontia  Chariclea,  the  early  White  Butterfly.    Gardens,  etc.     And  6. 
Pontia  Rapoe,  Small  White  Butterfly.    Gardens,  etc.     And  7  to  8. 
Pontia  Metra,  Mr.  Howard's  White  Butterfly.    Hertford  and  Ripley. 

And  6  to  7. 

Pontia  Daplidice,  Green-chequered  White  Butterfly.    South  of  Eng- 
land.   And  5  to  8. 
Hipparchia  ^Egeria,  Speckled  Wood  White  Butterfly.    Woods.    And 

to  9. 
Hipparchia  Megsera.    The  Wall  Butterfly.    Woods  and  lanes.    And 

6  to  7. 
Lycsena  Phlaeas,  Common  Copper  Butterfly.     Heaths  and  Marshes. 

And  to  9.  :    •' 

Saturnia  Pavonia,  Emperor  Moth.    Woods  and  heaths.    And  5. 
Semiophora  Gothica,  Hebrew  Character.    Trees  and  hedges.    And  5. 
Miselia  Aprilina,  Marvel  du  Jour.     Woods.    And  10. 
11 


122  APRIL. 

Phlogophora  meticulosa,  Angleshades.    Heaths  and  Woods.    And  8. 
Plusia  Gamma,  Silver  Y-Moth.    Gardens  and  fields,    And  6  &  9. 
Alucita  hexadactyla,  Six-cleft  Plume  Moth.     Houses,  etc.    And  5  &  9. 

Clivina  fossor  is,  in  the  early  spring  and  summer 
months,  extremely  abundant  in  the  vale  of  Trent,  and 
subject  to  great  variation  in  colour,  from  the  common 
piceous,  to  brunneous  and  light  testaceous.  I  men- 
tion this  because  the  light  varieties  are  generally 
considered  scarce,  or  might  be  confounded  with 
collaris ;  but,  on  examination,  they  are  readily  dis- 
tinguished by  the  colour  of  the  thorax  being  as  light 
as  the  elytra,  and  also  by  the  size. 

Sinodendron  cylindricum,  with  us,  not  only 
inhabits  the  ash,  but  also  the  maple  (Acer  cam- 
pestre)  and  several  species  of  willow,  in  a  state  of 
decay.  It  would  be  well  if  entomologists  generally 
paid  more  attention  to  the  plants  on  which  insects 
are  usually  found,  as  it  would  very  much  facilitate 
their  collection,  and  likewise  throw  much  light  on 
their  habits  and  peculiarities. 

Geotrupes  vernalis  (vernal  Dor-beetle).  The 
species  of  this  beautiful  genus  appear  to  be  so 
closely  allied  as  to  render  it  a  work  of  difficulty  to 
separate  them  accurately  from  each  other,  if  we 
may  judge  from  the  dissimilar  opinions  of  Mr. 
Curtis  and  Mr.  Stephens:  the  former  makes  five, 
the  latter  ten  British  species.  There  are  four 
species  in  this  country ;  the  stercorarius,  the  lasvis, 
the  vernalis,  and  one  which  I  suspect  to  be  the  syl- 
vaticus.  The  laevis  and  vernalis,  are  very  nearly 
allied ;  they  agree  in  the  colour  of  the  antennae,  in 


APRIL.  123 

the  minutely  and  entirely  punctured  thorax,  and  the 
smoothness  of  the  elytra,  but  differ  in  size  and 
colour.  The  Isevis  is  inferior  in  size,  generally  of  a 
deep  black  on  the  upper  surface,  but  sometimes 
tinged  with  green,  or  olivaceous;  the  under  side 
mostly  inclines  to  green  of  various  shades.  The 
elytra  and  thorax  of  the  vernalis  are  almost  always 
blue  or  violet,  and  underneath  the  breast,  abdomen, 
and  legs  are  splendidly  tinged  with  violet,  puce, 
and  blue.  Mr.  Curtis,  in  his  description  of  the 
laevis,  in  a  recent  number  of  his  excellent  work  on 
"  British  Entomology,"  mentions,  I  suppose  as  a 
specific  character,  the  denticulated  margin  of  the 
posterior  femora  :  this,  in  all  probability,  will  only 
prove  a  sexual  distinction,  as  I  have  this  spring 
captured  about  seventy  specimens,  and  found  it  to 
exist  in  only  thirty.  It  is  also  not  confined  to  this 
species,  for  in  thirty-four  specimens  of  the  vernalis, 
taken  but  a  few  days  ago  on  Sherwood  Forest,  it 
exists  in  fourteen. 

Anobium  tessellatum,  (Death-watch.)  The  pe- 
culiar noise  which  this  little  beetle  makes  by  beat- 
ing its  head  in  rapid  succession  against  the  wood  it 
inhabits,  has  been  regarded  amongst  the  supersti- 
tious as  an  omen  of  death.  It  is  generally  in  April 
and  May  when  its  knockings  are  most  frequent ; 
and  it  is  now  generally  understood  to  be  a  signal 
by  which  they  are  enabled  to  find  each  other  in 
their  dark  labyrinths.  If  two  of  them  are  placed 
in  separate  pill-boxes  at  a  short  distance,  they  will 
frequently  answer  each  other  for  a  considerable 


1*24  APRIL. 

time.  They  infest  houses  where  there  is  much  old 
timber,  and  trees  in  a  state  of  decay,  and  are  ex- 
ceedingly destructive. 

Gryllotalpa  vulgaris.  The  mole-cricket,  an  in- 
sect of  very  peculiar  construction,  is  an  inhabitant 
of  moist  gardens  and  the  banks  of  small  streams, 
where  it  throws  up  small  ridges  in  its  subterranean 
progress.  When  it  is  abundant,  it  does  incredible 
mischief  to  the  horticulturist  by  destroying  the 
roots  of  vegetables.  It  seldom  comes  abroad  ex- 
cept in  evenings  during  the  spring,  when,  as 
Gilbert  White,  in  his  "Natural  History  of  Sel- 
borne,"  says,  "  They  begin  to  solace  themselves 
with  a  low,  dull,  jarring  note,  continued  for  a  long 
time  without  interruption."  It  appears  to  be  con- 
fined to  the  southern  portion  of  Britain.  Report, 
however,  says  they  are  to  be  found  on  Oxton  bogs, 
in  this  county ;  but  I  have  not  yet  acquired  a  spe- 
cimen. 


MAY, 


Lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone. 
The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth :  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is 
come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land. 

SONG  OF  SOLOMON,  ii.  11,  12. 


HOWEVER  the  festivities  with  which  our  ancestors 
hailed  the  opening  of  this  month  may  have  sunk  into 
neglect,  Nature  has  not  forsaken  her  festivities.  She 
still  scatters  flowers,  and  revels  in  dews,  she  still 
loves  her  leafy  garniture,  and  the  bursts  of  unop- 
pressive  sunshine ;  for,  though  we  moderns  may 
abandon  the  customs  of  our  forefathers,  and  may 
even  deny  to  May  those  joyous  attributes  with 
which  they  delighted  to  invest  her;  though  we 
complain  of  cold  winds,  dull  days,  and  frosty 
nights,  cutting  down  flower  and  leaf,  and  have 
them  too,  yet  May  is  a  gladsome  month  withal. 
Vegetation  has  made  a  proud  progress,  it  has  be- 
come deep,  lavish,  and  luxuriant ;  and  nothing  can 
be  more  delightful  than  the  tender  green  of  the 
young  hawthorn  leaves.  Primroses  still  scatter 
their  million  of  pale  stars  over  shady  banks,  and 
among  the  mossy  roots  of  hazels;  and,  once  more, 
11* 


126  MAY. 

amid  the  thickly  springing  verdure  of  the  meadow 
we  hail  the  golden  and  spotted  cowslip.  In  woods 
there  is  a  bright  azure  gleam  of  Myosotis  sylvatica, 
a  species  of  forget-me-not,  and  of  those  truly  vernal 
flowers  called  by  botanists  Scilla  nutans,  by  poets 
Blue  bells,  and  by  country  folk  Cuckoo's  stockings. 
The  ferns  are  pushing  forth  their  russet  scrolls 
amongst  the  forest  moss  and  dead  leaves.  In  pools 
— and  none  of  our  indigenous  plants  can  rival  our 
aquatic  ones  in  elegance  and  delicate  beauty — are 
this  month  found  the  lovely  water-violet  (Hottonia 
palustris)  and  the  buck-bean,  originally  bog-bane  or 
bog-plant,  from  its  place  of  growth  (Menyanthes 
trifoliata),  like  a  fringed  hyacinth.  The  gorse  and 
broom  are  glorious  on  heaths  and  in  lanes. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  month,  if  we  walk  into 
woods,  we  shall  be  much  struck  with  their  peculiar 
beauty.  Woods  are  never  more  agreeable  objects 
than  when  they  have  only  half  assumed  their  green 
array.  Beautiful  and  refreshing  is  the  sight  of  the 
young  leaves  bursting  forth  from  the  gray  boughs, 
some  trees  at  one  degree  of  advance,  some  at  ano- 
ther. The  assemblage  of  the  giants  of  the  wood  is 
seen,  each  in  its  own  character  and  figure ;  neither 
disguised  nor  hidden  in  the  dense  mass  of  foliage 
which  obscures  them  in  summer; — you  behold  the 
scattered  and  majestic  trunks;  the  branches  stretch- 
ing high  and  wide ;  the  dark  drapery  of  ivy  which 
envelopes  some  of  them,  and  the  crimson  flush  that 
glows  in  the  world  of  living  twigs  above.  If  the 
contrast  of  gray  and  mossy  branches,  and  of  the 


MAY.  127 

delicate  richness  of  young  leaves  gushing  out  of 
them  in  a  thousand  places  be  inexpressibly  delightful 
to  behold,  that  of  one  tree  with  another  is  not  the 
less  so.  One  is  nearly  full  clothed, — another  is 
mottled  with  gray  and  green,  struggling  as  it  were 
which  should  have  the  predominance,  and  another 
is  still  perfectly  naked.  The  wild  cherry  stands  like 
an  apparition  in  the  woods,  white  with  its  profusion 
of  blossom,  and  the  wilding  begins  to  exhibit  its  rich 
and  blushing  countenance.  The  pines  look  dim  and 
dusky  amid  the  lively  hues  of  spring.  The  abeles 
are  covered  with  their  clusters  of  albescent  and 
powdery  leaves  and  withering  catkins ;  and  beneath 
them  the  pale  spathes  of  the  arum,  fully  expanded 
and  displaying  their  crimson  clubs,  presenting  a 
sylvan  and  unique  air.  And  who  does  not  love  "  the 
wood-notes  wild  ?"  We  again  recognise  the  speech 
of  many  a  little  creature  who,  since  we  last  heard 
it,  has  traversed  seas  and  sojourned  in  places  we 
wot  not  of.  The  landscape  derives  a  great  portion 
of  its  vernal  cheerfulness  not  merely  from  the  songs 
of  birds,  but  from  their  cries.  Each  has  a  variety 
of  cries  indicative  of  its  different  moods  of  mind,  so 
to  speak,  which  are  heard  only  in  spring  and  summer, 
and  are  both  familiar  and  dear  to  a  lover  of  Nature. 
Who  ever  heard  the  weet-weet  and  pink-pink  of  the 
chaffinch,  or  the  winkle-winkle  of  the  blackbird  as 
it  flies  out  of  the  hedge,  and  skims  along  before  you 
to  a  short  distance,  repeatedly  on  a  summer  evening 
about  sunset, — at  any  other  time?  In  spring  morn- 
ings by  three  or  four  o'clock  the  fields  are  filled  with 


128  MAY. 

a  perfect  clamour  of  bird-voices,  but  at  noon  the 
wood  is  their  oratory.  There  the  woodpecker's 
laugh  still  rings  from  a  distance — the  solemn  coo 
of  the  wood-pigeon  is  still  deep  and  rich  as  ever — 
the  little  chill-chall  sounds  his  two  notes  blithely  on 
the  top  of  the  tallest  trees ;  and  the  voice  of  the 
long-tailed  titmouse,  ever  and  anon,  sounds  like  a 
sweet  and  clear-toned  little  bell.  Nests  are  now 
woven  to  every  bough  and  into  every  hollow  stump. 

As  the  month  advances,  our  walks  begin  to  be 
haunted  with  the  richness  of  beauty.  There  are 
splendid  evenings,  clear,  serene,  and  balmy,  tempt- 
ing us  to  continue  our  stroll  till  after  sunset.  We 
see  around  us  fields  golden  with  crowfoot,  and 
cattle  basking  in  plenty.  We  hear  the  sonorous 
streams  chiming  into  the  milk-pail  in  the  nooks  of 
crofts,  and  on  the  other  side  of  hedges. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  month,  the  mind,  which 
has  been  continually  led  onward  by  the  expansion 
of  days,  leaves,  and  flowers,  seems  to  repose  on  the 
fulness  of  nature.  Every  thing  is  clothed.  The 
spring  actually  seems  past.  We  are  surrounded  by 
all  that  beauty,  sunshine,  and  melody  which  mingle 
in  our  ideas  of  summer.  The  hawthorn  is  in  full 
flower ;  the  leafy  hedges  appear  half-buried  in  the 
lofty  grass.  Butterflies  take  their  wavering  flight 
from  flower  to  flower;  and  dragonflies  on  the  banks 
of  rivers.  There  is  the  cheerful  hum  of  bees  amongst 
the  flowers;  and  the  cockchafer,  which  has  delighted 
us  all  in  our  boyhood,  is  hovering  about  the  green 
leaves  of  the  sycamore.  Sheep-washing  is  begun  in 


MAY.  129 

many  places.  The  mowing-grass  presents  a  mosaic 
of  the  most  gorgeous  and  inimitable  hues,  or  is  white 
with  waving  umbels.  A  passing  gale  awakens  a 
scene  of  lively  animation.  The  massy  foliage  of 
trees  swings  heavily,  the  boughs  of  the  hawthorn 
wave  with  all  their  loads  of  fragrant  bloom,  and 
snowy  umbelliferous  plants  toss  on  the  lea  like  foam 
on  the  stormy  ocean.  Now,  sweet  Poesy, 

Let  thy  happy  votary  roam, 
For  the  green  earth  is  his  home, 
When  the  tree-tops  are  besnowcd 
With  the  blossoms'  gorgeous  load, 
And  the  forest's  verdant  pall 
Shrouds  the  missel  in  her  hall ; 
In  the  hawthorn's  pleasant  boughs, 
Where  a  thousand  blithe  birds  house. 
When  the  meadows  are  brimful 
Of  all  flowers  that  children  pull, — 
Saxifrages,  cardamines, 
Kingcup  which  in  deep  gold  shines  ; 
Dandelion  with  globe  of  down, 
The  schoolboy's  clock  in  every  town, 
Which  the  truant  puffs  amain 
To  conjure  lost  hours  back  again. 
Then,  'tis  then  I  love  to  meet 
Thy  true  son's  wayfaring  feet, 
As  I  have,  ere  now,  descried 
By  the  thundrous  falls  of  Clyde; 
Or  where  bright  Loch  Katrine  fills 
Such  a  space  between  such  hills, 
As  no  lake  beside  it  may, 
Since  Eden's  waters  passed  away. 

W.H. 

Cottage  gardens  are  now  perfect  paradises;  and, 


130  MAY. 

after  gazing  on  their  sunny  quietude,  their  lilachs, 
peonies,wall-flowers,  tulips,  anemones  and  corco- 
ruses  with  their  yellow  tufts  of  flowers,  now  be- 
coming as  common  at  the  doors  of  cottages  as  the 
rosemary  and  rue  once  were — one  cannot  help 
regretting  that  more  of  our  labouring  classes  do  not 
enjoy  the  freshness  of  earth,  and  the  pure  breeze 
of  heaven,  in  these  little  rural  retreats,  instead  of 
being  buried  in  close  and  sombre  alleys.  A  man 
who  can,  in  addition  to  a  tolerable  remuneration  for 
the  labour  of  his  hands,  enjoy  a  clean  cottage  and 
a  garden  amidst  the  common  but  precious  offerings 
of  Nature,  the  grateful  shade  of  trees  and  the  flow 
of  waters,  a  pure  atmosphere  and  a  riant  sky,  can 
scarcely  be  called  poor. 

If  Burns  had  been  asked  what  was  the  greatest 
luxury  of  May,  I  suppose  he  would  have  quoted 
from  his  "  Cotter's  Saturday  Night," 

If  Heaven  a  draught  of  heavenly  pleasure  spare, 
One  cordial  in  this  melancholy  vale, 
'Tis  when  a  youthful,  loving,  modest  pair 
In  other's  arms  breathe  out  the  tender  tale 
Beneath  the  milk-white  thorn  that  scents  the  evening  gale. 

At  which  Gilpin  would  quote,  from  his  "  Forest 
Scenery,"  a  passage  proving  the  poets  to  be  very 
foolish  for  their  admiration  of  so  insignificant  and 
inelegant  a  bush.  We,  however,  shall  take  part  with 
Burns,  only  we  would  conjure  a  nightingale  into  his 
hawthorn,  and  the  hawthorn  into  a  forest;  for  of  all 
May  delights,  listening  to  the  nightingale  is  the 


MAY.  131 

greatest,  and  when  heard  at  still  midnight,  the  moon 
and  stars  above  you,  filling  with  lustre  the  clear 
blue  sky;  the  trees  lifting  up  their  young  and  varied 
foliage  to  the  silvery  light;  the  deer  quietly  resting 
in  their  thickest  shadows  ;  and  the  night-breeze,  ever 
and  anon,  wafting  through  the  air  "Sabean  odours;" 
then,  if  you  feel  neither  love  nor  poetry,  depend  upon 
it  you  are  neither  lover  nor  poet.  As,  however,  in 
this  country,  nightingales  are  as  capricious  as  the 
climate,  a  good  singing  gentleman  is  no  bad  substi- 
tute, as  a  friend  of  ours  convinced  us  on  such  an 
occasion,  making  the  woods  echo  with  the  "  Pibroch 
of  Dormel  Dhu." 

FLOWERS.  The  return  of  May  again  brings 
over  us  a  living  sense  of  the  loveliness  and  delight- 
fulness  of  flowers.  Of  all  the  minor  creations  of 
God  they  seem  to  be  most  completely  the  effusions 
of  his  love  of  beauty,  grace,  and  joy.  Of  all  the 
natural  objects  which  surround  us  they  are  the  least 
connected  with  our  absolute  necessities.  Vegetation 
might  proceed,  the  earth  might  be  clothed  with  a 
sober  green ;  all  the  processes  of  fructification  might 
be  perfected  without  being  attended  by  the  glory 
with  which  the  flower  is  crowned ;  but  beauty  and 
fragrance  are  poured  abroad  over  the  earth  in 
blossoms  of  endless  varieties,  radiant  evidences  of 
the  boundless  benevolence  of  the  Deity.  They 
are  made  solely  to  gladden  the  heart  of  man,  for 
a  light  to  his  eyes,  for  a  living  inspiration  of 
grace  to  his  spirit,  for  a  perpetual  admiration. 
And  accordingly,  they  seize  on  our  affections 
the  first  moment  that  we  behold  them.  With 


132  MAY. 

what  eagerness  do  very  infants  grasp  at  flowers  ! 
As  they  become  older  they  would  live  for  ever 
amongst  them.  They  bound  about  in  the  flowery 
meadows  like  young  fawns;  they  gather  all  they 
come  near ;  they  collect  heaps ;  they  sit  among 
them,  and  sort  them,  and  sing  over  them,  and  caress 
them,  till  they  perish  in  their  grasp. 

This  sweet  May  morning 

The  children  are  pulling 

On  every  side, 

In  a  thousand  valleys  far  and  wide, 

Fresh  flowers. 

WORDSWORTH. 

We  see  them  coming  wearily  into  the  towns  and 
villages  with  their  pinafores  full,  and  with  posies 
half  as  large  as  themselves.  We  trace  them  in 
shady  lanes,  in  the  grass  of  far-off  fields  by  the 
treasures  they  have  gathered  and  have  left  behind, 
lured  on  by  others  still  brighter.  As  they  grow  up 
to  maturity,  they  assume,  in  their  eyes,  new  charac- 
ters and  beauties.  Then  they  are  strewn  around 
them,  the  poetry  of  the  earth.  They  become  invested 
by  a  multitude  of  associations  with  innumerable 
spells  of  power  over  the  human  heart;  they  are 
to  us  memorials  of  the  joys,  sorrows,  hopes,  and 
triumphs  of  our  forefathers ;  they  are,  to  all  nations, 
the  emblems  of  youth  in  its  loveliness  and  purity. 

The  ancient  Greeks,  whose  souls  pre-eminently 
sympathized  with  the  spirit  of  grace  and  beauty  in 
every  thing,  were  enthusiastic  in  their  love,  and 


MAY.  133 

lavish  in  their  use,  of  flowers.  They  scattered  them 
in  the  porticoes  of  their  temples,  they  were  offered 
on  the  altars  of  some  of  their  deities ;  they  were 
strewed  in  the  conqueror's  path  ;  on  all  occasions  of 
festivity  and  rejoicing  they  were  strewn  about,  or 
worn  in  garlands. 

It  was  the  custom  then  to  bring  away 

The  bride  from  home  at  blushing  shut  of  day, 

Veiled,  in  a  chariot,  heralded  along 

By  strewn  flowers,  torches,  and  a  marriage  song. 

KEATS. 

The  guests  at  banquets  were  crowned  with  them : 

Garlands  of  every  green,  and  every  scent, 

From  vales  deflowered,  or  forest-trees  branch-rent, 

In  baskets  of  bright  osiered  gold  were  brought, 

High  as  the  handles  heaped,  to  suit  the  thought 

Of  every  guest,  that  each  as  he  did  please 

Might  fancy-fit  his  brows,  silk.pillowed  at  his  ease. 

KEATS. 

The  bowl  was  wreathed  with  them,  and  wherever 
they  wished  to  throw  beauty,  and  to  express  glad- 
ness, like  sunshine,  they  cast  flowers. 

Something  of  the  same  spirit  seems  to  have  pre- 
vailed amongst  the  Hebrews.  "  Let  us  fill  ourselves," 
says  Solomon,  "  with  costly  wine  and  ointments ; 
and  let  no  flower  of  the  spring  pass  by  us.  Let  us 
crown  ourselves  with  rosebuds  before  they  be 
withered."  But  amongst  that  solemn  and  poetical 
people  they  were  commonly  regarded  in  another 
12 


134  MAY. 

and  higher  sense,  they  were  the  favourite  symbols 
of  the  beauty  and  the  fragility  of  life.  Man  is  com- 
pared to  the  flower  of  the  field ;  and  if  is  added, 
"  the  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fadeth."  But  of  all 
the  poetry  ever  drawn  from  flowers,  none  is  so 
beautiful,  none  is  so  sublime,  none  is  so  imbued  with 
that  very  spirit  in  which  they  were  made,  as  that  of 
Christ.  "And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment? 
Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow; 
they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin:  and  yet  I  say 
unto  you,  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.  Wherefore,  if  God 
so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  shall  he  not  much 
more  clothe  you,  O  ye  of  little  faith  ?"  The  senti- 
ment built  upon  this,  entire  dependence  on  the  good- 
ness of  the  Creator,  is  one  of  the  lights  of  our  exist- 
ence, and  could  only  have  been  uttered  by  Christ;  but 
we  have  here  also  the  expression  of  the  very  spirit  of 
beauty  in  which  flowers  were  created ;  a  spirit  so 
boundless  and  overflowing  that  it  delights  to  enliven 
and  adorn  with  these  riant  creatures  of  sunshine 
the  solitary  places  of  the  earth ;  to  scatter  them  by 
myriads  over  the  very  desert "  where  no  man  is ; 
on  the  wilderness  where  there  is  no  man ;"  sending 
rain,  "  to  satisfy  the  desolate  and  waste  ground,  and 
to  cause  the  bud  of  the  tender  herb  to  spring  forth." 
In  our  confined  notions,  we  are  often  led  to  wonder 
why 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  fragrance  on  the  desert  air ; 


MAY.  135 

why  beauty,  and  flowers,  and  fruit,  should  be 
scattered  so  exuberantly  where  there  are  none  to 
enjoy  them.  But  the  thoughts  of  the  Almighty  are 
not  as  our  thoughts.  He  sees  them ;  he  doubtlessly 
delights  to  behold  the  beauty  of  his  handiworks,  and 
rejoices  in  that  tide  of  glory  which  he  has  caused  to 
flow  wide  through  the  universe.  We  know  not, 
either,  what  spiritual  eyes  besides  may  behold  them  ; 
for  pleasant  is  the  belief  that 

Myriads  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth. 

And  how  often  does  the  gladness  of  uninhabited 
lands  refresh  the  heart  of  the  solitary  traveller! 
When  the  distant  and  sea-tired  voyager  suddenly 
descries  the  blue  mountain-tops,  and  the  lofty  crest 
of  the  palm-tree,  and  makes  some  green  and  pleasant 
island,  where  the  verdant  and  blossoming  forest- 
boughs  wave  in  the  spicy  gale;  where  the  living 
waters  leap  from  the  rocks,  and  millions  of  new 
and  resplendent  flowers  brighten  the  fresh  sward  ; 
what  then  is  the  joy  of  his  heart !  To  Omnipo- 
tence creation  costs  not  an  effort ;  but  to  the 
desolate  and  the  weary,  how  immense  is  the  happi- 
ness thus  prepared  in  the  wilderness !  Who  does 
not  recollect  the  exultation  of  Vaillant  over  a  flower 
in  the  torrid  wastes  of  Africa  1  A  magnificent  lily, 
which,  growing  on  the  banks  of  a  river,  filled  the 
air  far  around  with  its  delicious  fragrance,  and,  as 
he  observes,  had  been  respected  by  all  the  animals 
of  the  district,  and  seemed  defended  even  by  its 


136  MAY. 

beauty.  The  affecting  mention  of  the  influence  of 
a  flower  upon  his  mind  in  a  time  of  suffering  and 
despondency,  in  the  heart  of  the  same  savage  con- 
tinent, by  Mungo  Park,  is  familiar  to  every  one. 

In  the  East,  flowers  are  made  to  speak  the 
language  of  sentiment.  The  custom  of  embel- 
lishing houses  and  garnishing  tables  with  them  is 
unquestionably  eastern.  Perhaps  the  warmer  coun- 
tries of  Europe  are  less  in  the  use  of  them  than 
they  were  formerly.  Boccaccio  talks  of  them 
being  disposed  even  in  bed-chambers :  "  E  nelle 
camere  i  letti  fatti,  e  ogni  cosa  di  fiori,  quali  nella 
stagione  si  potevanto  avere,  piena:"  and  at  the 
table  of  the  narrators  of  the  Decameron  stories,  as 
"  Ogni  cosa  di  fiori  di  ginestra  coperta."  In  Eng- 
land they  are  much  less  used  than  on  the  Continent, 
and  much  less  than  they  were  by  our  ancestors. 
On  May-day,  at  Whitsuntide,  and  on  other  holiday 
occasions,  the  houses  were  profusely  decorated 
with  them,  and  they  were  strewn  before  the  door. 
Over  the  extinction  of  many  popular  customs  I 
cannot  bring  myself  to  grieve ;  but  there  is  some- 
thing so  pure  and  beautiful  in  the  plentiful  use  of 
flowers,  that  I  cannot  but  lament  the  decay  of 
these.  Perhaps  the  most  touching  of  our  popular 
uses  of  flowers  is  that  of  strewing  the  dead  with 
them,  designating  the  age,  sex,  or  other  particular 
circumstances,  by  different  flowers.  How  expres- 
sive in  the  hand  of  a  fair  young  girl,  cut  off  in  her 
early  spring,  are  a  few  pure  and  drooping  snow- 
drops, an  image  exquisitely  employed  by  Chantrey 


MAY.  137 

in  his  celebrated  piece  of  sculpture — the  two  Chil- 
dren at  Lichfield.  Let  the  pensile  lily  of  the  valley 
for  ever  speak  of  the  gentle  maid  that  has  been 
stricken  down  in  her  May ;  and  the  fair  white  lily 
of  the  youth  shorn  in  his  unsullied  strength ;  and  let 
those  who  have  passed  through  the  vanities  of  time 
have 

Flowers  of  all  hues,  and  with  its  thorn  the  rose. 

But  even  this  tender  custom  is  on  the  decline,  from 
a  needless  notion  that  they  generate  insects,  and 
tend  to  destroy  the  body  they  adorn.  In  reality, 
however,  the  love  of  flowers  never  was  stronger  in 
any  age  or  nation  than  in  ours.  We  have,  per- 
haps, less  love  of  showy  festivity  than  our  ances- 
tors ;  but  we  have  more  poetry  and  sentiment 
amongst  the  people  at  large.  We  have  conveyed 
from  every  region  its  most  curious  and  splendid 
plants;  and  such  is  the  poetical  perception  of 
natural  beauty  in  the  general  mind,  that  wherever 
our  wild  flowers  spring  up,  in  the  grass,  on  the 
overhanging  banks  of  the  wild  brook,  or  in  the 
mossy  shade  of  the  forest,  there  are  admiring  eyes 
to  behold  them. 


May  is  so  called  from  the  goddess  Maia,  a  name 
under  which  the  earth  was  worshipped  at  this 
daedal  season  of  the  year.  The  Saxons  termed  it 
Trimilki,  because  they  began  to  milk  their  cows 
three  times  a-day  in  this  month. 
12* 


138  MAY. 

The  flowers  of  the  chestnut-tree  begin  to  unfold  ; 
the  tulip-tree  has  its  leaves  quite  out;  and  the 
flowers  of  the  Scotch  fir,  the  beech,  the  oak,  and 
the  honeysuckle,  climbing  round  its  neighbour  for 
support,  are  now  in  full  bloom.  The  mulberry-tree 
puts  forth  its  leaves ;  the  walnut-tree  is  in  flower ; 
so  too  are  the  lilach,  the  barberry,  and  the  maple. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  month,  that  magnificent 
and  beautiful  tree,  the  horse-chestnut ;  and  the  haw- 
thorn-flower, the  mountain-ash,  the  laburnum,  the 
guelder-rose,  the  alder,  the  elm  and  the  wayfaring 
tree. 

Wayfaring  tree !  what  ancient  claim 
Hast  thou  to  that  right  pleasant  name  ? 
Was  it  that  some  faint  pilgrim  came 

Unhopedly  to  thee, 
In  the  brown  desert's  dreary  way, 
Mid  toil  and  thirst's  consuming  sway, 
And  there,  as  'neath  thy  shade  he  lay, 

Blest  the  wayfaring  tree  ? 

Or  is  it  that  thou  lovest  to  show 
Thy  coronals  of  fragrant  snow, 
Like  life's  spontaneous  joys  that  flow 

In  paths  by  thousands  beat  ? 
Whatever  it  be,  I  love  it  well ; 
A  name,  methinks,  that  surely  fell 
From  poet,  in  some  evening  dell, 

Wandering  with  fancies  sweet. 

A  name  given  in  those  olden  days, 
When,  mid  the  wild-wood's  vernal  sprays, 
The  merle  and  mavis  pour'd  their  lays 
In  the  lone  list'ner's  ear, 


MAY.  139 

Like  songs  of  an  enchanted  land, 
Sung  sweetly  to  some  fairy  band, 
Listening  with  dofTd  helms  in  each  hand 
In  some  green  hollow  near. 

W.  H. 

Rye  is  in  ear  at  the  end  of  the  month.  This  too 
is  the  benting  time  of  pigeons.  After  the  spring- 
corn  has  vegetated,  until  the  harvest,  they  are 
driven  to  immature  seeds  and  green  panicles  of  the 
grasses  for  subsistence,  and  are  seen  in  large  flocks 
in  pasture-fields,  where  they  pick  up  so  bare  a 
living  as  to  have  occasioned  an  old  couplet,  often 
quoted  in  the  country, 

The  pigeon  never  knoweth  wo, 
Until  a-benting  it  doth  go. 

The  leafing  of  the  trees  is  commonly  completed 
in  this  month.  It  begins  with  the  aquatic  kinds, 
such  as  willow,  poplar,  and  alder ;  and  ends  with 
the  oak,  beech,  and  ash.  These  are  sometimes 
very  thin  of  foliage  even  at  the  close  of  May. 

BEES.  Towards  the  end  of  May  the  bee-hives 
send  forth  their  earliest  swarms.  One  queen-bee  is 
necessary  to  form  each  colony ;  and  wherever  she 
flies,  they  follow.  Nature  directs  them  to  march  in 
a  body  in  quest  of  a  new  habitation  ;  which,  if  left 
to  their  choice,  would  generally  be  in  the  trunk  of 
some  hollow  tree.  But  man,  who  converts  the 
labours  and  instincts  of  so  many  to  his  own  use, 
provides  them  with  a  more  secure  dwelling,  and 


140  MAY. 

repays  himself  with  their  honey.  There  is  some- 
thing very  picturesque  in  the  manner  of  reclaim- 
ing the  swarms  of  bees.  Their  departure  is 
announced  for  a  day  or  more  before  it  takes  place 
by  an  unusual  bustle  and  humming  in  the  hive. 
Some  person,  commonly  a  boy  is  set  to  watch ; 
and  the  moment  their  flight  is  proclaimed,  a  ring- 
ing is  commenced  upon  a  pan  or  a  fire-shovel, 
which,  as  country  people  say,  charms  them  down. 
They  alight,  or  rather  the  queen-bee  alights,  upon 
the  end  of  a  bough ;  and  the  rest  of  the  bees  clus- 
tering, or  as  it  is  termed  knitting,  about  her,  form  a 
living  brown,  dependent  cone.  Beneath  this  some 
adroit  operator  spreads  a  cloth  (upon  a  table  if  one 
can  be  had),  and  holding  an  empty  hive  inverted 
under  the  swarm,  suddenly  shakes  them  into  it,  and 
places  it,  with  all  the  captive  colony  in  it  upon  the 
cloth.  In  this  state  they  are  conveyed  to  the  place 
they  are  intended  to  occupy;  and  the  following 
morning  they  are  found  to  have  taken  kindly  to 
their  new  dwelling.  They  will  frequently  fix  them- 
selves in  the  roofs  of  houses. 

It  is  a  superstition  common  both  in  France  and 
in  this  country,  to  announce  to  the  bees  the  death 
of  the  master  of  the  family  ;  in  some  places,  of  any 
individual  of  the  family;  or  it  is  believed  the  bees 
would  die,  or  fly  away.  It  is  also  reckoned  un- 
lucky to  sell  bees,  in  some  places ;  and  for  this 
reason,  when  a  person  parts  with  a  hive,  he  will 
not  receive  its  value  in  money,  but  stipulates  for  a 
certain  part  of  its  produce. 


MAY.  141 


RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Cattle  are  turned  out  to  pasture  as  soon  as  there 
is  a  sufficiency  of  grass,  which  is  not  till  towards 
the  end  of  the  month.  The  spring  crops  being 
sown,  the  great  business  of  the  farmer  is  now  on 
his  fallows.  The  farmyard  is  cleared  of  manure  ; 
turf  is  pared  and  burnt.  Cow-cabbage  and  pota- 
toes are  planted,  water-meadows  are  irrigated  to  en- 
courage the  growth  of  the  hay-crop  ;  young  quick- 
set hedges  are  cleared  of  weeds ;  hop  plantations 
require  cleaning,  and  other  attentions.  Now  too,  as 
the  sap  begins  to  flow  freely,  trees  are  barked  and 
felled,  as  the  larch,  alder,  but  especially  the  oak. 
There  is  much  of  the  picturesque  in  the  sight  of  the 
woodmen  at  work  at  alt  times :  and  although  I  re- 
gret to  see  the  destruction  of  timber,  yet  a  large 
tree  with  all  its  branches  prostrate  on  the  ground  is 
a  fine  sight ;  the  clear,  golden-coloured  chips  scat- 
tered about,  and  a  fresh  sylvan  odour  breathing 
from  the  wounded  boughs,  and  the  brown  cylindri- 
cal shells  of  bark  ranged  in  pyramidal  rows  to  dry. 
It  is  a  beautiful  but  melancholy  object,  a  noble  oak 
stripped  of  its  bark  just  as  all  its  "budding  honours" 
are  become  "thick  upon  it;"  and  felled  to  the 
ground,  or  left  a  blasted  skeleton  in  the  midst  of 
summer  greenness. 

Abundance  of  grass  now  plunges  the  housewife 
into  all  the  cares  and  nice  clean  processes  of  the 
dairy,  skimming,  churning,  and  cheese-making.  The 


142  MAY. 

farmhouse  is  now  an  affluent  place,  abounding  in 
all  the  good  things  which  may  be  made  from  milk ; 
rich  cream,  sweet  butter,  curds,  curds  and  cream, 
syllabubs,  custards,  and  so  forth.  Where  there  is  a 
dairy,  at  this  season,  fetching  up  cows,  milking, 
churning,  scouring  utensils — making,  pressing,  and 
turning  cheese,  etc.  leave  no  lack  of  employment. 

Osiers  are  now  peeled  ;  and  it  is  a  pleasant  sight 
to  see  groups  of  young  and  old  seated  in  the  open 
air,  at  this  employment.  The  garden  demands 
various  operations  of  weeding,  training,  and  putting 
in  flower  seeds.  The  children  of  the  poor  have  an 
easy  and  pleasant  occupation  in  gathering  cowslips 
for  wine.  Poultry  broods,  as  last  month  demand 
attention ;  corn  is  weeded,  and  rearing  calves  turned 
out. 

ANGLING. 

Carp  is  not  in  season,  nor  barbel,  till  the  middle 
of  the  month.  Perch  now  become  fine,  and  afford 
good  sport  till  the  end  of  June:  their  haunts  are 
clear  swift  rivers,  with  pebbly  bottoms ;  in  mode- 
rately deep  waters,  near  sluices,  etc.  They  frequent 
holes  by  the  sides  of  little  streams,  and  the  hollows 
under  banks :  they  are  best  taken  in  cloudy,  windy 
weather,  and,  as  some  say,  from  seven  to  ten  in  the 
forenoon,  and  from  two  to  seven  in  the  afternoon : 
but  Isaac  Walton  says  they  will  bite  at  all  seasons, 
and  at  all  hours;  "being  like  the  wicked  of  this 
world,  not  afraid,  though  their  companions  perish  in 


MAY.  143 

their  sight."  Worms,  minnows,  boiled  horsebeans, 
cadis,  and  oakworm  (cynips),  and  gentles,  are  his 
baits.  The  chub  will  this  month  take  flies,  snails, 
beetles  with  the  legs  off,  and  the  black  bee,  which 
builds  in  clay  walls :  his  haunts  are  streams  shaded 
with  trees.  The  tench  is  well  taken  this  month,  with 
a  red  worm,  a  lob-worm,  well-scoured  gentle,  or  a 
green  caterpillar  shook  from  a  tree.  But  the  pride 
of  May  angling  is  the  trout ;  which,  however,  is  not 
perfectly  prime  till  next  month.  Cloudy  weather, 
a  little  windy,  especially  from  the  south,  is  in  high 
favour  with  the  trouter,  because  the  streams  which 
this  beautiful  fish  inhabit  are  usually  not  deep,  and 
very  clear,  thereby  exposing  the  angler  entirely  to 
his  quick  eye.  The  finest  old  trouts,  however,  are 
taken  in  the  night  with  a  worm,  being  too  shy  to 
come  out  of  their  holes,  or  to  rise  in  the  day ;  they 
are  often  taken  by  torch  light  in  Hampshire,  as 
salmon  are  in  Scotland,  striking  them  down  with  a 
spear. 

Flies.  The  oakfly  to  be  found  from  the  begin- 
ning of  this  month  to  the  end  of  August,  on  the  bole 
of  an  oak  or  ash,  always  standing  head  downwards : 
the  hawthornfly,  a  small  black  fly :  the  Turkeyfly, 
red  and  yellow;  alderfly,  and  the  great  hackle. 
These  are  chiefly  stone  flies,  or  phryganese. 


144  MAY. 


MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 
ARRIVALS. 

Alca  Torda,  Razor-bill,  comes  May,  goes  August.    Haunts,  Rocky 

isles. 

Anthus  trivialis,  Field  Titlark,  goes  Aug.    Grassy  fields. 
Caprimulgas  Europoeus,  Fern  owl,  comes  early  in  May,  goes  Sept.  Oak 

woods. 

Charadrius  Morinellus,  Dottrel,  goes  Aug.    Heaths  and  mountains. 
Curruca    salicaria,  Sedge    Warbler,  English    Mock-bird,  goes  Sept. 

Hedges  in  low  places. 
Curruca    arundinacea,     Reed    Warbler,    goes    Sept.      Water-sides, 

marshes. 

Falco  Subbuteo,  Hobby,  goes  Oct.    Woods  and  fields. 
Lanius  Collurio,  Red-backed  Shrike,  goes  Sept.    Fields  in  Southern 

counties. 

Ortygometra  crex,  Land  Rail,  goes  Oct.     Meadows. 
Muscicapa  Grisola,  Spotted  Flycatcher,  comes  May  12,  goes  Sept- 

Wall-trees  about  houses. 


DEPARTURES. 

Anser  ferus,  Bean  Goose,  goes  May,  comes  Sept.     Haunts,  Fens  and 
corn-fields. 


CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  II.  Order  1.     Phillyreee,  mult.  Phillyreas,  various. 

Syringa  Persica,  Persian  Lilach.  6. 

Syringa  v.  latifolia,  Broad-leaved  Lilach. 

Veronica  aphyllia,  Naked-stalked  Speedwell.  7. 

Veronica  bellidoides,  Broad-leaved  Speedwell. 

Calceolaria  Fothergilli,  Fothergill's  Slipperwort.  8. 

III.  1.    Valeriana  Phu,  Garden  Valerian.  7. 

Iris  Florentina,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Florentine  Iris,  with  many  others. 

V.  1.     Azalea  pontica,  Yellow  Azalea.  6. 

Azalea  nudiflora,  Red  Azalea,  6. 


MAY.  145 

Azalea  v.  coccinea,  Scarlet  Azalea. 

Azalea  v.  cornea,  Flesh-coloured  Azalea. 

Azalea  v.  alba,  Early  white  Azalea. 

Azalea  v.  papilionacca,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Variegated  Azalea,  with  many 

others. 

Lonicera  sempervirens,  Trumpet  Honeysuckle.  8. 
Lonicera  Pyrenaica,  Pyrenean  Honeysuckle. 
Lonicera  Diervilla,  Yellow  Honeysuckle.  7. 
Lonicera  caprifolium,  Italian  White  Honeysuckle.  6. 
Lonicera  v.  rubra,  Early  Red  Honeysuckle. 
Lycium  barbarum,  Willow-leaved  Boxthorn.  8. 
Lycium  Europaeum,  European  Boxthorn.  8. 
Anthusa  angustifolia,  Narrow-leaved  Buglos.  8. 
Symphytum  Orientale,  Eastern  Comfrey.  7. 
Phlox  glaberrima,  Smooth-stalked  Lychnidea.  6. 
Phlox  pilosa,  Hairy  Lychnidea.  6. 
Phlox  ovata,  Oval-leaved  Lychnidea. 
Phlox  stolonifera,  Creeping  Lychnidea.  6. 
Verbascum    ferrugineum,    cum    aliis.      Rusty-leaved   Mullein,   with 

others.  7. 

Viola,  montana,  Mountain  Violet.  6. 

Viola  grandiflora,  cum  aliis.    Great-flowered  Violet,  with  others.  8. 
Campanula  speculum,  Venus'  Looking-glass.  7. 
Echium  Orientale,  Eastern  Viper's  Buglos.  8. 
Echium  violaceum,  Violet  Viper's  Buglos. 
V.  1.    Echium  v.flore  plena,  Double  Viper's  Buglos. 
V.  3.  Viburnum  opulus  Amer  :  American  Guelder-rose. 
Viburnum  v.  rosea,  Snowball  Guelder-rose. 
Staphyllea  trifolia,  Three-leaved  Bladder-nut.  6. 
Rhus  aromaticum,  Aromatic  Sumach. 

V.  5.    Statice  Cephalotes,  Large  single-leaved  Thrift. 
Statice  cordata,  Heart-leaved  Thrift.  7. 

VI.  1.    Tradescantia  Virginica,  Virginian  Spiderwort.  6. 
Lilium  pomponium,  Pomponium  Lily.  6. 

Fritillaria  Pyrenaica,  Pyrenean  Fritillary. 
Scilla  Peruviana,  Peruvian  Hyacinth. 
Scilla  Lusitanica,  Portugal  Hyacinth. 
Scilla  campanulata,  Spanish  Hyacinth.  6. 
Asphodelus  luteus,  Yellow  Asphodel.  7. 
Asphodelus  ramosus,  Branching  Asphodel.  7. 
Anthericum  ramosum,  Branching  Anthericum.  6. 
Anthericum  Liliago,  Grass-leaved  Anthericum. 

13 


146  MAY. 

Anthericum  Liliastrum,  St.  Bruno's  Anthericum.  6. 

Convallaria  racemosa,  Solomon's  Seal.  6. 

Convallaria  bifolia,  Lily  of  the  Valley.  6. 

Tulipa  suaveolens,  Van  Thol  Tulip. 

Hyacinthus  Romanus,  Roman  Hyacinth. 

Hyacinthus  monstrosus,  Feathered  Hyacinth.  6. 

Hemerocallis  coerulea,  Blue  Day-Lily.  7. 

VIII.  1.    (Enothera  rosea,  Rose-flowered  Tree  Primrose. 

CEnothera  primula,  Dwarf-yellow  Tree  Primrose.  9. 

(Enothera  Romanzovii,  Romanzow's  (Enothera.  8. 

CEnothera  bifrons,  Lindley's  CEnothera.  11. 

Clarkia  pulchella,  Pretty  Clarkia.  7. 

Clarkia  pulchella,  v.  alba,  White  Clarkia.  7. 

Vaccinium  stamineum,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Green-twigged  Bleaberry, 
with  many  others.  6. 

Daphne  Cneorum,  Sweet-scented  Daphne. 

Erica  viridipurpurea,  Green  and  Purple  Heath. 

X.  1.    Ledum  latifolium,  Labrador  Tree. 

Rhododendron  ferrugin :  cum  mult,  aliis.  Rusty-leaved  Rhododendron, 
with  many  others.  6. 

Andromeda  paniculata,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Panicled  Andromeda,  with 
many  others.  6. 

X.  2.  Saxifraga  Pensylvatica,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Pennsylvanian  Saxi- 
frage, with  many  others.  6. 

Saponaria  ocymoides,  Basil-leaved  Soapwort.  7. 

X.  3.    Silene  alpestris,  Mountain  Catchfly.  7. 

X.  4.    Cerastium    repens,   cum    aliis.    Mouse-ear    Chickweed    with 

others.  6. 

XI.  3.    Euphorbia  spinosa,  cum  mnlt.  aliis.    Shrubby  Spurge,  with 
many  others.  9. 

Reseda  alba,  Upright  Reseda.  10. 

XII.  1.    Philadelphus  coronarius,  Common  Syringa.  6. 
Philadelphia  nanus,  Dwarf  Syringa.  6. 

XII.  1.  Amygdalus,  pumila,  Dwarf  Almond.  6. 

Prunus  Virginiana,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Virginian  Bird's  cherry,  with 

many  others.  6. 
XII.  2.  Crateegus  crus-galli,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Thorn  Cockspur,  with 

many  others.  6. 
Pyrus  Pyracantha,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Evergreen  Thorn,  with  many 

others. 

Cydonia  communis,  Common  Quince.  6. 
Spiraea  tri-lobata,  Three-lobed  Spiraea.  6. 


MAY.  147 

Mesembryanthemum  crystallinum,  Crystalline  Fig-Marigold.  8. 
Mesembryanthemum  glaciate,  Ice-plant.  8. 
Mesembryanthemum  pinnatifidum,  Wing-cleft  Fig-Marigold.  10. 
XII.  3.     Rosa  spinosissima,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Striped  Scotch  Rose, 
with  many  others. 

XII.  5.  Calycanthus  floridus,  Carolina  Allspice.  7. 
Calycanthus  v.  oblongus,  Long-leaved  Allspice. 
Geum  strictum,  Upright  Avens.  6. 

XIII.  1.    Cistus  populifolius,  Poplar-leaved  Cistus.  6. 
Cistus  v.  minor,  Small  Cistus. 

Cistus  marifolius,  Marum-leaved  Cistus.  6. 

Actea  racemosa,  American  Herb  Christopher.  6. 

Papaver  Orientale,  Oriental  Poppy.  6. 

XIII.  2.    Peonia  coralloides,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Female  Peony,  with 

many  others.  6. 

XIII.  5.    Aquilegia  montana,  Mountain  Columbine.  6. 
Aquilegia  Siberica,  Siberian  Columbine. 
Aquilegia  viridiflora,  Green-flowered  Columbine.  6. 
XIII.  7.    Anemone  pratensis,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Meadow  Anemone, 

with  many  others.  6. 
Ranunculus  acontifolius,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Fair  Maids  of  France, 

with  many  others.  6. 
Thalictrum  aquilegifolium,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Feathered  Columbine, 

with  many  others.  7. 

Collinsia  grandiflora,  Great-flowered  Collinsia.  7. 
Collinsia  bicolor,  Two-coloured  Collinsia.  7. 
XV.  1.    Lunaria  rediviva,  Perennial  Honesty.  6. 
XV.  2.    Hesperis  matronalis,  Single  Rocket.  8. 
Matthiola  annua,  Ten-week  Stock.  11. 
Matthiola  incana,  Brompton  Ten- week  Stock.  11. 
Cheiranthus  Alpinus,  Alpine  Stock.  11. 
XVII.  2.    Corydalis  nobilis,  Great-flowered  Fumitory. 
Corydalis  spectabilis,  Scarlet  Fumitory. 
XVII.   4.      Spartium  multiflorum,   cum  aliis.      White  Broom,  with 

others.  6. 

Ononis  rotundifolia,  Round  Rest-harrow.  7. 
Ononis  fruticosa,  Shrubby  Rest-harrow.  7. 
Cytisus  Laburnum,  Common  Laburnum. 
Cytisus  v.  latifolia,  Scotch  Laburnum. 
Robinia  pseudo-acacia,  Common  Acacia.  6. 
Robinia  hispida,  Rose  Acacia.  9. 
XVII.  4.     Lupinus  perennis,  Perennial  Lupine.  7. 


148  MAY. 

XVIII.  4.    Hypericum  perfoliatum,  Perfoliate  St.  John's-wort.  6. 

XIX.  1.    Leontodum  aureum,  Golden  Dandelion. 
Tragopogon  vilosus,  Villous  Goat's-beard.  6. 
Tragopogon  porrifolius,  Purple-flowered  Goat's-beard.  6. 
Calendula  arvensis,  Field  Marigold.  9. 

XXI.  4.    Aucuba  Japonica,  Blotch-leaved  Aucuba.  7. 

XXI.  7.     Quercus   Phillos,  cum    aliis.      Willow-leaved    Oak,  with 
others.  6. 

Carpinus  Virginiana,  Virginian  Hornbeam. 
Carpinus  Orientalis,  Eastern  Hornbeam. 
Thuja  Occidentalis,  American  Arbor- vitas. 
Thuja  Orientalis,  Chinese  Arbor-vitae. 
Cupressus  sempervircns,  Upright  Cypress. 

XXII.  2.    Salix  incubacea,  Spreading  Willow. 
XXII.  9.    Coriara  myrtifblia,  Myrtle-leaved  Sumach.  7. 

XXII.  12.     Juniperis  sabina,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Savine,  with  many 
others.  6. 

XXIII.  2.    Fraxinus  ornus,  Flowering  Ash.  6. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  II.  Order  1.  Veronica  chamaedrys,  cum  aliis.  Germander 
Speedwell,  with  others.  locality,  woods  and  hedges.  Dura- 
tion, 10. 

Pinguicula  vulgaris,  Yorkshire  Sanicle.    Bogs.  6. 

II.  2.     Anthoxanthum  odoratum,  Sweet-Scented  Vernal  Grass.    Pas- 

tures. 6. 

III.  2.    Alopccurus  pratensis,  Common  Foxtail  Grass.    Meadows.  8. 
Aira  pnecox,  Early  Hair  Grass.    Heaths.  6. 

Melica  uniflora,  Wood  Melic  Grass.    Woods.  7. 
Briza  media,  Common  Quaking  Grass.    Pastures.  6. 

IV.  1.    Asperula  odorata,  Sweet  Woodruff.    Woods.  9. 
Galium  cruciatum,  Crosswort.    Hedges.  6. 
Plantago  major,  Greater  Plaintain.    Road-sides.  10. 

Epimedium  alpinum,  Barren  Wort.  Yorkshire,  Scotland,  on  moun- 
tains. 10 

IV.  3.    Ilex  aquifolium,  Common  Holly.    Hedges.  10. 
Maenchia  erecta,  Upright  Pearlwort.    Heaths.  6. 

V.  1.     Myosotis  csepitosa,  Tufted  Water  Scorpion-Grass.    Watery 

places.  6. 

Myosotis  sylvatica,  Wood  Scorpion-Grass.    Woods.  7. 
Anchusa  sempervirens,  Evergreen  Alkanet.    Amongst  rubbish.  7. 


MAY.  149 

Symphytum  officinalis,  Common  Comfrey.    Banks  of  rivers.  6. 
Viola  tricolor,  Pansy,  Heartsease.    Gardens  and  fields.  9. 
Viola  lutea,  Yellow  Mountain  Violet.    Mountains.  9. 
Rhamnus  catharticus,    Common  Buckthorn.    Hedges.  9. 
Rhamnus  Frangula,  Berry-bearing  Alder.    Moist  woods.  9. 
Euonymus  Europaeus,  Spindle  Tree.     Hedges.  9. 
V.  1.    Vinca  minor,  Lesser  Periwinkle.    Banks.  6. 
Vinca  major,  Greater  Periwinkle.    Moist  woods.  6. 
V.   2.     Chenopodium  Bonus   Henricus,   Mercury  Goosefoot.    Way- 
sides. 6. 

Myrrhis  odorata,  Sweet  Cicely.    Mountainous  Pastures.  7. 
Sanicula  Europaea,  Wood  Sanicle.    Woods.  6. 
Bunium  flexuosum,  Earth-nut,  or  Pig-nut.    Pastures.  6. 
Smyrnium  Olusatrum,  Alexanders.    Among  ruins.  6. 
Meum  athamanticum,  Spignel.     Mountainous  pastures.  7. 

V.  3.     Viburnum  Lantana,  Wayfaring  Tree.     Woods.  7. 

VI.  1.    Leucojum  sestivum,  Summer  Snowflake.    Moist  meadows.  7. 
Narcissus  poeticus,  Poetic  Narcissus.    Open  fields.  7. 

Allium  ursinum,  Bear's  Garlic.    Moist  woods.  6. 
Scilla  nutans,  Harebell  Squill.    Woods.  6. 

VI.  1.    Convallaria  majalis,  Lily  of  the  Valley.    Woods.  6. 
Convallaria  multiflora,  Common  Solomon's  Seal.     Woods,  rare.  6. 
Berberis  vulgaris,  Common  Barberry.     Hedges.  6. 

VII.  1.    Trientalis  Europe,  Winter  Green.    Pine  Woods.  6. 

VIII.  1.     Vaccinium  myrtillus,  Bilberry.     Heaths  and  woods.  6. 

Acer  pseudo-platanus,  Sycamore.  )  ,,T     ,         ,  ,     ,         ,. 
J  >  Woods  and  hedges.  6. 

Acer  campestre,  Common  Maple.  \ 

VIII.  3.  Paris  quadrifolia,  Herb  Paris.  Truelove.  Woods.  6. 
X.  1.  Andromeda  polifolia,  Marsh  Andromeda,  Peat  bogs.  6. 
X.  2.  Saxifraga  csespitosa,  Tufted  Alpine  Saxifrage.  Mountainous 

rocks,  rare.  6. 
Saxifraga  hypnoides,  cum  aliis.    Mossy  Alpine  Saxifrage,  with  others. 

Walls  and  rocks.  6. 

X.  3.   Arenaria  verna,  Vernal  Sandwort.    Mountains.  8. 
X.  4.    Oxalis   corniculata,   Yellow  Wood-sorrel.     Waste  ground.  10. 
Lychnis  dioca,  Red  and  White  Campions.     Fields  and  gardens.  10. 
XII.  1.     Prunus  Padus,  Bird's  Cherry.  ) 
Prunus  Cerasus,  Wild  Cherry  Tree.      $ 
XII.  2.    Mespilus  Oxycantha, — Hawthorn — May.  ? 
Pyrus  malus,  Crab  Tree.  \  Hedges.  6. 

Pyrus  torminalis,  Wild  Service  Tree.    Hedges  and  Woods.  6. 
Pyrus  aucuparia,  Mountain  Ash.    Mountainous  woods.  6. 

13* 


150  MAY. 

Pyrus  Aria.  White  Beam  Tree.    Mountains  and  rocks.  6. 

XII.  3.     Rubus  idaeus,  Raspberry.     Woods  and  hedges.  6. 
Rubus  arcticus,  Arctic  Bramble.    Mountainous  moors.  6. 
Fragaria  vesca,  Wood  Strawberry.    Banks  and  woods.  6. 
Geum  urbanum,  Common  Avens.    Woods  and  hedges.  8. 

XIII.  1.    Chelidonium  majus,  Common  Celandine.    Waste  grounds.  6. 

XIII.  3.    Adonis  autumnalis,  Pheasant's  Eye.    Corn-fields.  9. 
Ranunculus  bulbosus,  Bulbous  Crowfoot.    Meadows.  6. 
Ranunculus   aquatilis,  cum  aliis.     Floating  Crowfoot,   with  others. 

Ponds  and  rivers.  6. 
Trollius  Europoeus,  Globe  Flower.    Mountainous  woods.  G. 

XIV.  1.    Lamium  purpureum,  Red  Dead-nettle.    Waste  grounds.  8. 
Galeobdolon  luteum,  Yellow  Dead-nettle.    Hedges  and  woods.  6. 

XIV.  2.    Melampyrum  pratense,  Common  Cow-wheat.    Woods.  8. 
Antirrhinum  Cymbalaria,  Ivy-leaved  Snap-dragon.   Banks  and  walls.  1 1 . 
Linnaea  borealis,  Two-flowered  Linnaea.    Pine-woods,  Scotland.  6. 

XV.  1.    Crambe  maritima,  Sea  Kale.    Sandy  sea  coast.  6. 

XV.  2.    Cardamine  impatiens,  Impatient  Cardamine.    Moist  places.  6. 
Erysimum  Alliaria,  Jack-by-the-hedge.    Banks  and  Hedges.  G. 
Hesperis  matronalis,  Dame's  Violet.    Hilly  pastures.  6. 

Sinapis  arvensis,  Wild  Mustard.    Corn-fields.  6. 

XVI.  2.      Geranium     phaeum,     Dusky     Crane's-bill.      Mountainous 
thickets.  6. 

Geranium  Robertianum,  Herb  Robert.    Hedges  and  banks.  10. 
Geranium  lucidum,  Shining  Crane's  bill.    Moist  rocks.  8. 
XVI.  2.      Geranium  dissectum,  Jagged-leaved   Crane's-bill.     Waste 
ground.  7. 

XVI.  3.    Malva  sylvestris,  Common  Mallow.    Roadsides.  9. 

XVII.  1.  Fumaria  lutea,  Yellow  Fumitory.    Old  walls.  6. 
Fumaria  officinalis,  Common  Fumitory.    Gardens  and  fields.  8. 
XVII.  3.     Orobus    tuberosus,    Common    Heath    Pea.      Banks    and 

woods.  7. 

Lathyrus  JNissolia,  Crimson  Grass- Vetch.    Bushy  places.  6. 
Vicia  sepium,  Common  Blush-Vetch.    Corn-fields.  6. 
Ornithopus  purpusillus,  Birds'-foot.    Sandy  places.  9. 
Trifolium  pratense,  Common  Red  Clover.    Pastures.  9. 

XIX.  1.    Hieraceum  Pilosella,  Mouse-ear  Hawkweed.     Waysides.  7. 

XX.  1.    Orchis  morio,  Meadow  Orchis.    Meadows.  6. 
Orchis  fusca,  Great  Brown-winged  Orchis.  ^ 

Orchis  militaris,  Military  Orchis.  C Chalky  Hills,  Kent.  6. 

Orchis  tephrosanthos,  Monkey  Orchis.         J 

Orchis  latifolia,  March  Palmate  Orchis.    Moist  meadows.  6. 


MAY. 


Ophrys  fucifera,  Drone  Orchis.     Chalky  hills,  Kent,  6. 

Listera  Nidus-avis,  Bird's-nest  Orchis.    Shady  woods.  6. 

Epipactis  ensifolia,  Narrow-leaved  White  Helleborine.      Mountainous 

woods.  6. 

Corallorrhiza  innata,  Spurless  Coral  Wort.    Mossy  bogs,  Scotland.  6. 
XXI.  2.    Carex  dioica,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Diocious  Carex,  with  many 

others.    Bogs.  9. 

XXI.  4.    Bryonia  dioica,  Red-berried  Bryony.    Hedges.  9. 
XXI.  5.    Arum  maculatum,  Wake-Robin.    Banks  and  woods.  6. 
Fragus  castanea,  Sweet  Chestnut.  J  .y      ,    g 

Carpinus  Betulus,  Common  Hornbeam.   $ 

XXI.  6.    Pinus  sylvestris,  Scotch  Fir.     Scotland.  6. 

XXII.  1.    Salix  triandra,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Triandrous  Willow,  with 
many  others.    Osier  Grounds.  8. 

XXII.  2.    Empetrum  nigrum,  Crowberry.    Mountainous  heaths.  8. 
XXII.  3.     Viscum  album,  Common  Misseltoe.    On  apple  and  crab- 

trees.  8. 

Myrica  Gale,  Sweet  Gale,  or  Dutch  Myrtle.     Bogs.  8. 
XXII.  6.     Rhodiola  rosea,  Mountain  Rose-root.      Wales,  North  of 

England,  etc.  6. 

XXII.  8.    Juniperus  communis,  Common  Juniper.     Heathy  downs.  6. 
XXIV.  1.      Polypodium  vulgare,  Common  Polypody.     Walls,  trunks 

of  trees,  etc.  10. 
Asplenium    Tricomanes,  Common    Maiden-hair.      Rocks    and    old 

walls.  12. 

Pteris  crispa,  Curled,  or  Rock  Brakes.    Sides  of  mountains.  8. 
Hymenophyllum  Tunbridgense,  Tunbridge  Filmy  Fern.    Moist,  shady, 

and  stony  places.  G. 
Ophioglossum  vulgatum,  Adder's  Tongue.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Cicindela  hybrida.    Locality,  coast  of  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  etc.     Month, 

To  6. 

Brachinus  crepitans,  Common  Bombardier.    Near  London.    To.  6. 
Carabus  monilis.     Gardens  and  meadows.    To  9. 
Carabus  nitens.    On  heaths,  particularly  in  the  North  of  England. 

To  7. 

Nebria  complanata.    Coast,  Swansea,  etc.    To  6. 
Helobia  Marshallana.    Mountains  of  Westmoreland.    To  6. 
Anchomenus  prasinus.    Under  stones  in  sandy  places.    To  8. 
Agonum  marginatum.    Banks  of  streams.    To  6. 


152  MAV. 

Omaceus  nigrita.    Moist  situations.    To  7. 

Harpalus  ruficornis.    Under  stones  and  pathways.    To  10, 

Colymbetes  abbreviates.    Ponds.    To  6. 

Gyrinus  bicolor.    Surface  of  Pools,  etc.    To  6. 

Gyrinus  villosus.    Margins  of  rivers.    To  6. 

Necrophorus  germanus. 

.Necrophorus  Sepultor. 

Oiceoptoma  thoracica.     >Dead  animals  and  fungi.    To  7. 

Oiceoptoma  rugosa. 

Oiceoptoma  sinuata. 

Silpha  quadrimaculata.    Oak-trees.    To  7. 

Onthophilus  striatus.     )  _ 

Onthophilus  sulcatus.   ^ung  and  dead  ammals.    To  7. 

Geotrupes  laevis,  Smooth  Dor-beetle.    Dung  on  heaths.    To  10. 

Melolontha    vulgaris,    Common    Cockchaffer.      Trees   and    hedges 

To  6. 

Anomala  Horticola.    Skirts  of  woods.    To  7. 

Cetonia  aurata,  Rose  May-chaffer.    Flowers  of  the  Dog  rose.    To  7. 
Telephorus  fuscus. 


Telephorus  lividus.  '    T°  7" 

Necrobia  violacea.    Dead  animals.    To  9. 

Scolytus  Destructor.    Bark  of  the  Elm.    To  7. 

Phyllobius  argentatus.    Woods  and  hedges.    To  6. 

Deporans  Betulse.    Birch-tree.    To  6. 

Brachy  tarsus  scabrosus.     White  Thorn.    To  6. 

Donacia  dentipes.  >  A  TQ  g 

Donacia  simplex.  > 

Cassidanobilis.  ?  Weedy  banks.    To  6. 

Cassida  splendidula.    > 

Helops  caraboides.    Sandy  places.    To  7. 

Mordella  aculeata.    Umbellate  plants.    To  6. 

Notoxus  Monoceros,  Unicorn  Beetle.  1  (  To  8. 

Staphylinus  pubescens.  >  Sandy  places.  <  To  6. 

Staphylinus  erythropterus.  )  (  To  7. 

Papilio   Machaon,  Swallow-tail  Butterfly.      In  the  fenny  countries. 

To  7. 
Papilio  Podalirius,  Scarce  Swallow-tailed  Butterfly.    Woods,  Bedford- 

shire.   To  8. 
Pontia  Brassicse,  Common  Cabbage  Butterfly.     Gardens,  etc.     And 

7  to  9. 
Pontia  Napi,  Green-veined  White  Butterfly. 


_ 
Pontia  Nap**.  Gardens,  etc.    And  7. 


MAY.  158 


Pontia  Daplidice,  Green  chequered  White  Butterfly.  South  of  Eng- 
Pont?anCardtnl8eS,  Orange-lip  White  Butterfly.  Woods  and  meadows. 
Leuclphtia  Sinapis,  Wood  White  Butterfly.  Woods  in  the  south. 
Nemltus  Lucina,  Duke  of  Burgundy's  Fritillary.  Woods  in  the  south. 

Meltolihalia,  Pearl-bordered  Likeness.    Devonshire     And  6. 
Melitceatessellata,  Straw  May  Fritillary.    Middlesex     And  6 
Melifcea  Artemis,  Greasy,  or  Marsh  Fritillary.    H^^^twl. 
Melifcea  Selane,  Small  Pearl-bordered  Fritillary.    Woods  and  1 

MeltoEuphrosyne,  Pearl-bordered  Fritillary.    Woods  and  heaths. 
Argynni!  Lathonia,  Queen  of  Spain's  Fritillary.    Woods  in  the  south. 

ThecfanRubi,  Green  Hair-streak.    Hedges  and  brambles.    And  8 
Polyommatus  Agriolus,  Azure-blue    Butterfly.     South   of  England. 

Polyommls  Alsus,  Bedford  blue  Butterfly.  Woods  and  meadows. 
Polyomtls  Acis,  Mazarine  blue  Butterfly.  Chalky  districts. 
Polyomlatus  Adonis,  Clifden  blue  Butterfly.  Downs  in  the  south. 
Polyomlatus  Alexis,  Common  blue  Butterfly.  Heaths  and  commons. 

And  ®'  C  And  8 

Thymele  Alveolus,  Grizzled  Skipper.  )  Wooda  and  COmmons.  j  And  ?' 

ons: 


PamphSyvanus,  Large  Skipper.    Woods  and  lanes.     And  7 
Anthrocera  Trefolii,  Trefoil  Burnet-Moth.    Moist  woods  and  bogs. 


Woods    and    commons 

ds  and  lanes.     And  7 

h.    Moist  woods  and  bogs. 

Smerinttus  ocellatus,  Eyed  Hawk  Moth.   Willow,  Apple,  and  Poplar. 

^^^^  -  - 

,   Broad-bordered    Bee-Hawk   Mo.h.     Wood. 


And  6. 


154  MAY. 

Hepialus  Humuli,  Ghost  Moth.    Fields,  etc.    And  6. 

Cossus  ligniperdi,  Goat  Moth,    Willow-trees.    And  6. 

Cerura  Vinula,  Puss  Moth.    Osier  holts.    And  6. 

Lasiocampa  Rubi,  Fox-coloured  Moth.    Woods  and  heaths.    And  6. 

Spilosoma  meuthastri,  Large  Ermine.     Moist  woods.     And  6. 

Spilosoma  lubricepeda,  Spotted  Buff  Ermine.    Gardens.     And  6. 

Diaphora  mendica,  Spotted  Muslin.    Woods.    And  6. 

Callimorpha  Jacobaeae,  Cinnabar   Moth.     Woods  on   the   Ragwort. 

And  7. 
Hypena  rostralis,  Button  Snout.    Amongst  nettles.    And  7. 

The  Gyrinus  villosus,  one  of  the  rarest  species  of 
this  genus,  inhabits  the  weedy  margins  of  streams. 
It  is  supposed  by  some  to  differ  from  its  congeners 
in  not  being  gregarious,  but  of  this  I  have  some 
doubts,  as  it  has  once  in  this  neighbourhood  been 
taken  abundantly,  and  to  all  appearance  is  as  fond 
of  collecting  together  as  the  natator,  although  not 
so  common  or  so  frequently  observed.  The  gentle- 
man who  took  them  informs  me  that  on  turning 
over  a  stone  on  the  margin  of  the  Trent,  he  observed 
at  least  fifty  specimens. 

The  Onthophilus  sulcatus  and  striatus  are  both 
found  in  the  vicinity  of  Nottingham ;  the  former 
very  rarely,  but  always  near  dead  animals :  the 
latter  has  been  extremely  abundant  this  spring, 
(1830,)  in  the  usual  haunts  of  the  Histeridae  and 
Aphodiidse. 

Cetonia  aurata — Rose  May-Chaffer,  or  Brass 
Beetle.  This  beautiful  insect  is  not  confined  to  the 
south  ;  some  hundreds  of  specimens  have  been  cap- 
tured in  this  county,  and  I  have  some  which  were 
taken  at  Matlock. 

Scolytus  Destructor.     No  one  from  a  casual  sur- 


MAY.  155 

vey  of  this  little  creature  would  deem  it  capable  of 
such  extensive  devastation :  its  ravages  are  con- 
fined to  the  elm  (Ulmus  campestris),  the  mid-bark 
of  which  it  perforates  in  a  circular  direction,  in 
some  instances  completing  the  circumference  of  the 
tree  and  depositing  eggs  during  its  progress.  The 
larvae  which  are  produced  from  these  eggs  perfo- 
rate the  bark  at  right  angles  with  the  perforation  of 
the  mother  insect,  both  upwards  and  downwards. 
The  female  is  generally  found  dead  at  the  end  of 
the  circular  labyrinth :  a  tree,  when  once  infected, 
never  fails  to  fall  a  victim  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  to  this  little  destroyer,  however  large  and 
flourishing. 

Notoxus  Monoceros  is  a  local  British  insect,  and 
appears  to  haunt  the  sea  coast,  and  the  banks  of  the 
larger  rivers  in  dry  sandy  situations ;  with  us  on 
the  banks  of  the  Trent,  in  one  spot,  it  is  found  in 
great  abundance,  at  the  roots  of  the  tansy  (Tanace- 
tum  vulgare),  and  the  silver-weed  (Potentilla  anse- 
rina).  It  is  also  very  fond  of  dead  muscles  that  are 
half-dried  by  the  sun.  Mr.  Marsham  has  given  its 
habitat  on  syngenesious  flowers,  but  I  have  never 
observed  it  to  take  wing. 

Of  the  twenty-five  species  of  Papiliones  enume- 
rated in  the  list  of  this  month,  eight  only  are  known 
to  inhabit  this  county ;  of  which  the  Polyommatus 
Alexis,  and  the  Pontia  Brassicag,  Napi,  and  Carda- 
mines,  are  common,  and  the  Melitsea  Euphrosyne, 
the  Polyommatus  Alsus,  and  the  Pamphila  Sylvanus 


156  MAY. 

are  less  frequent:  the  Papilio  Machaon  has  been 
taken  once  at  Newark  on  Trent,  and  at  Welbeck. 

Cossus  ligniperda,  or  Goat-moth.  A  moth  of 
large  size  and  considerable  beauty,  not  uncommon 
towards  the  end  of  this  and  the  beginning  of  the 
next  month ;  the  larvae  live  in  the  solid  wood  of  the 
oak,  the  ash,  and  the  willow,  but  more  particularly 
the  last,  which  they  perforate  in  various  directions. 
They  are  very  destructive,  as  may  easily  be  ima- 
gined from  their  duration  and  size ;  the  length  of 
the  full-grown  larvae  being  four  inches,  and  their 
period  of  existence  in  that  state  three  years.  They 
remain  in  the  state  of  pupa  or  chrysalis  about  three 
weeks. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS. 


BY  MARY  HOW1TT. 
II, 

SUMMER. 

'Tis  summer— joyous  summer  time ! 

In  noisy  towns  no  more  abide  ; 
The  earth  is  full  of  radiant  things, 
Of  gleaming  flowers  and  glancing  wings, 

Beauty  and  joy  on  every  side. 

'Tis  morn  ; — the  glorious  sun  is  up, 

The  dome-like  heaven  is  bright  and  blue  ; 
The  lark,  yet  higher  and  higher  ascending, 
Pours  out  his  song  that  knows  no  ending ; 
The  unfolding  flowers  are  brimmed  with  dew. 

When  noon  is  in  the  flaming  sky, 
Seek  we,  some  shadowy,  silent  wood ; 

Recline  upon  a  mossy  knoll, 

Cast  care  aside,  and  yield  the  soul 
To  that  luxurious  quietude. 

Above,  waves  wide  the  linden  tree, 

With  humming-bees  the  air  is  thrilled, 
And  through  the  sleeping  hush  is  heard 
The  sudden  voice  of  the  woodland  bird, 
Like  sound  with  which  a  dream  is  filled. 
14 


158  SUMMER. 

Oh  pleasant  land  of  idlesse  ! 

Jollity  bides  not  'neath  the  trees, 
But  thought,  that  roams  from  folly  free, 
Through  the  pure  world  of  poetry, 

Puts  on  her  strength  in  scenes  like  these  ! 

And  sweet  it  is  by  lonely  meres 

To  sit,  with  heart  and  soul  awake, 
Where  water-lilies  lie  afloat, 
Each  anchored  like  a  fairy  boat 
Amid  some  fabled  elfin  lake  : 

To  see  the  birds  flit  to  and  fro 

Along  the  dark-green  reedy  edge  ; 

Or  fish  leap  up  to  catch  the  fly  ; 

Or  list  the  viewless  wind  pass  by, 
Leaving  its  voice  amid  the  sedge. 

The  green  and  breezy  hills — away ! 

My  heart  is  light,  my  foot  is  free, 
And,  resting  on  the  topmost  peak, 
The  freshening  gale  shall  fan  my  cheek, — 

The  hills  were  ever  dear  to  me  ! 

I  stand  upon  the  mountain's  brow, 
A  monarch  in  this  region  wide  ; 

I  and  the  gray -faced  mountain-sheep 

The  solitary  station  keep, 

As  living  thing  were  none  beside. 

'Tis  summer  eve,  a  gentle  hour  ; 

The  west  is  rich  in  sombre  sheen ; 
And  'mid  the  garden's  leafy  trees, 
Springs  up  a  cool  refreshing  breeze, 

And  the  pale  stars  are  faintly  seen. 

The  white  owl  with  his  downy  wings 
And  hooded  head  goes  slowly  by  ; 

The  hawk-moth  sits  upon  the  flowers ; 

And  through  the  silent  evening  hours 
The  little  brooks  make  melody. 


SUMMER.  159 


And  walking  'mid  the  folded  blooms 
At  summer  midnight  shalt  thou  feel 

A  softened  heart,  a  will  subdued, 

A  holy  sense  of  gratitude, 

An  influence  from  the  Source  of  Good, 
Thy  bitterest  griefs  to  heaj. 


JUNE. 


Come  on,  therefore,  let  us  enjoy  the  good  things  that  are  present ; 
and  let  us  speedily  use  the  creatures  like  as  in  youth. 

Let  us  fill  ourselves  with  costly  wine,  and  ointments,  and  let  no 
flower  of  the  spring  pass  by  us. 

.Let  us  crown  ourselves  with  rose-buds,  before  they  be  withered. 
THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON,  ii.  6 — 8. 


WELCOME  once  more  to  sweet  June,  the  month 
which  comes 

Half  prankt  with  spring,  with  summer  half  imbrowned. 

Yet  it  is  almost  startling  to  those  who  regret  the 
speed  of  time,  and  especially  of  those 

Who  like  the  soil,  who  like  the  clement  skies, 
Who  like  the  verdant  hills,  and  flowery  plains, 

to  behold  how  far  the  season  has  advanced.  But 
with  this  we  must  be  sensibly  struck,  if  we  give  a 
retrospective  glance  to  the  days  when,  in  our  walks, 
we  hailed  with  delight  the  first  announcements  of  a 
new  spring ;  the  first  snatch  of  milder  air  ;  the  first 
peep  of  green ;  the  first  flowers  which  dared  the 
unsettled  elements ; — snowdrops,  primroses,  violets, 
and  then  a  thousand  beautiful  and  short-lived  blooms. 


JUNE.  161 

They  are  gone  !  The  light  tints  of  young  foliage, 
so  pure,  so  tender,  so  spiritual,  are  vanished.  What 
the  poet  applied  to  the  end  of  summer,  is  realized 
now ; 

It  is  the  season  when  the  green  delight 

Of  leafy  luxury  begins  to  fade, 

And  leaves  are  changing  hourly  on  the  sight. 

BARTON, 

A  duller  and  darker  uniformity  of  green  has  spread 
over  the  hedges ;  and  we  behold  in  the  forest  trees 
the  farewell  traces  of  spring.  They  indeed  exhibit 
a  beautiful  variety.  The  oak  has  "  spread  its  amber 
leaves  out  in  the  sunny  sheen ;"  the  ash  has  unfolded 
its  more  cerulean  drapery ;  the  maple,  beech,  and 
sycamore  are  clad  in  most  delicate  vestures ;  and 
even  the  dark  perennial  firs  are  enlivened  by  young 
shoots  and  cones  of  lighter  green.  Our  admiration 
of  the  foliage  of  trees  would  rise  much  higher,  did 
we  give  it  a  more  particular  attention.  I  have 
frequently  in  autumn  gathered  under  the  trees, 
leaves  of  the  Spanish,  or  sweet  chestnut,  more  than 
a  foot  in  length.  The  leaves  of  the  horse-chestnut 
too  are  superb.  Passing  through  a  wood  with  a 
friend,  we  broke  off  one  without  thinking  much  of 
what  we  were  doing,  but,  being  immediately  struck 
with  its  size  and  beauty,  we  found,  on  trial,  that  it 
measured  no  less  than  one  yard  and  three  quarters 
round,  and  the  leaf  and  foot-stalk  three  quarters  of 
a  yard  in  length,  presenting  a  natural  handscreen  of 
unrivalled  elegance  of  shape.  It  is  now  too  that 
14* 


162  JUNE. 

many  of  the  forest  trees  put  forth  their  blossoms. 
The  chestnut,  in  the  earliest  period  of  the  month,  is 
a  glorious  object,  laden  with  ten  thousand  waxen 
pyramidal  flowers.  Then  come  the  less  conspicuous, 
but  yet  beautiful  developements  of  other  giants  of  the 
wood.  The  sycamore,  the  maple,  and  the  horn- 
beam are  affluent  with  their  pale,  yellow  florets, 
quickly  followed  by  winged  seeds ;  the  ash  shows 
its  bunches  of  green  keys ;  and  lastly,  the  lime  bursts 
into  one  proud  glow  of  beauty,  filling  the  warm  air 
with  honeyed  sweetness,  and  the  ear  with  the  hum 
of  a  thousand  bees, — 

Pilgrims  of  summer,  who  do  bow  the  knee 
Zealously  at  every  shrine. 

The  general  character  of  June,  in  the  happiest 
seasons,  is  fine,  clear,  and  glowing,  without  reaching 
the  intense  heats  of  July.  Its  commencement  is  the 
only  period  of  the  year  in  which  we  could  possibly 
forget  that  we  are  in  a  world  of  perpetual  change 
and  decay.  The  earth  is  covered  with  flowers,  and 
the  air  is  saturated  with  their  odours.  It  is  true  that 
many  have  vanished  from  our  path,  but  they  have 
slid  away  so  quietly,  and  their  places  have  been 
occupied  by  so  many  fragrant  and  beautiful  succes- 
sors, that  we  have  scarcely  been  sensible  of  their 
departure.  Every  thing  is  full  of  life,  greenness,  and 
vigour.  Families  of  young  birds  are  abroad,  and 
give  their  parents  a  busy  life  of  it,  till  they  can  peck 
for  themselves.  Rooks  have  deserted  the  rookery, 


JUNE.  163 

and  are  feeding  their  vociferous  young  in  every  pas- 
ture, and  under  every  green  tree.  The  swallow  and 
swift  are  careering  in  the  clear  skies,  and 


Ten  thousand  insects  in  the  air  abound, 

Flitting  on  glancing  wings  that  yield  a  summer  sound. 

WIFFEN. 


The  havoc  that  is  made  amongst  the  broods  of 
young  birds  at  this  season  all  over  this  kingdom,  but 
especially  in  the  neighbourhood  of  populous  towns,  is 
truly  melancholy.  The  mere  taking  of  birds'  eggs 
may  possibly  find  some  excuse  in  the  plea  of  keeping 
down  the  number  of  birds ;  but  the  wanton  destruc- 
tion of  the  helpless  and  innocent  young  ones,  is  an 
evil  feature  in  our  youthful  population,  and  a  most 
striking  evidence  of  that  want  of  culture  of  the 
moral  sensibilities  in  the  working  class,  which  is  a 
disgrace  to  this  nation.  No  one  is  accustomed  to 
walk  the  fields  at  this  time  of  the  year,  whose  feel- 
ings are  not  tortured  by  the  cruelty  that  is  every 
where  going  on.  Troops  of  boys  and  young  men 
are  traversing  the  fields  in  all  directions,  on  Sundays 
and  holidays,  dragging  out  every  nest  they  can  find, 
from  no  motive  but  the  indulgence  of  an  idle  and 
brutal  recklessness.  You  meet  them  with  nests  full 
of  littte  downy,  half-fledged  creatures,  that  are  gaping 
and  uttering  continuous  chirpings,  or  rather  sobs  and 
sighs,  full  of  a  sense  of  their  misery,  and  which  you 
know  will  cease  only  with  their  lives.  Many  are 
carried  home,  and  stuffed  with  improper  food  till 


164  JUNE. 

they  perish ;  many  are  flung  heedlessly  away,  are 
dashed  on  the  ground,  or  are  set  upon  a  stone  or  a 
post  to  be  thrown  at :  and  all  this  outraging  of  Na- 
ture in  her  sweetest  season  and  solitudes,  all  this 
infliction  of  agonies  on  those  young,  tender  things, 
just  awoke  to  existence,  and  that  would  have  filled 
field  and  forest  with  music  and  rejoicing,  are  done 
with  the  most  callous  and  thorough  ignorance  of 
wrong.  It  proceeds  from  the  want  of  better  teach- 
ing ;  from  the  want  of  that  moral  training  which  the 
children  of  our  working  class  so  much  need  ;  that 
necessary  education,  which  consists  not  so  much  in 
reading  and  writing,  as  in  the  awakening  of  the 
moral  sense,  the  exercise  of  the  moral  principles, 
and  the  humane  sympathies,  the  inculcation  of  that 
religion  which  consists  not  in  cant,  but  in  "  doing 
justice,  loving  mercy,  and  walking  humbly  before 
God."  It  is  the  duty  of  every  man  who  loves  the 
holy  beauty  of  Nature,  and  his  fellow  man,  to  con- 
sider seriously  by  what  means  this  better  tone  of 
popular  feeling  may  be  produced. 

The  flower-garden  is  in  the  height  of  its  splen- 
dour. Roses  of  almost  innumerable  species, — I  have 
counted  no  less  than  fourteen  in  a  cottage  garden, — 
lilies,  jasmins,  speedwells,  rockets,  stocks,  lupines, 
geraniums,  pinks,  poppies,  valerians,  red  and  blue ; 
mignonette,  etc.,  and  the  glowing  rhododendron 
abound. 

It  is  the  very  carnival  of  Nature,  and  she  is  pro- 
digal of  her  luxuries.  It  is  luxury  to  walk  abroad, 
indulging  every  sense  with  sweetness,  loveliness,  and 


JUNE.  165 

harmony.  It  is  luxury  to  stand  beneath  the  forest 
side,  when  all  is  still  and  basking  at  noon ;  and  to 
see  the  landscape  suddenly  darken,  the  black  and 
tumultuous  clouds  assemble  as  at  a  signal ;  to  hear 
the  awful  thunder  crash  upon  the  listening  ear ;  and 
then,  to  mark  the  glorious  bow  rise  on  the  lurid  rear 
of  the  tempest,  the  sun  laugh  jocundly  abroad,  and 

Every  bathed  leaf  and  blossom  fair 
Pour  out  its  soul  to  the  delicious  air. 

It  is  luxury  to  haunt  the  gardens  of  old-fashioned 
houses  in  the  morning,  when  the  bees  are  flitting 
forth  with  a  rejoicing  hum;  or  at  eve,  when  the 
honeysuckle  and  sweetbriar  mingle  their  spirit  with 
the  breeze.  It  is  luxury  to  plunge  into  the  cool  river ; 
and,  if  ever  we  are  tempted  to  turn  anglers,  it  must 
be  now.  To  steal  away  into  a  quiet  valley,  by  a 
winding  stream,  buried,  completely  buried,  in  fresh 
grass ;  the  foamlike  flowrers  of  the  meadow-sweet, 
the  crimson  loose-strife,  and  the  large  blue  geranium 
nodding  beside  us ;  the  dragonfly,  the  ephemera, 
the  kingfisher  glancing  to  and  fro ;  the  trees  above 
casting  their  flickering  shadows  on  the  stream  ;  and 
one  of  our  ten  thousand  volumes  of  delightful  litera- 
ture in  our  pockets, — then  indeed  might  one  be  a  most 
patient  angler  though  taking  not  a  single  fin.  What 
luxurious  images  would  there  float  through  the 
mind !  Gray  could  form  no  idea  of  heaven  supe- 
rior to  laying  on  a  sofa,  and  reading  novels ;  but  it 
is  in  the  flowery  lap  of  June  that  we  can  best  climb 

Up  to  the  sunshine  of  uncumbered  ease. 


166  JUNE. 

How  delicious,  too,  are  the  evenings  become !  The 
frosts  and  damps  of  spring  are  past:  the  earth  is 
dry:  the  night  air  is  balmy  and  refreshing:  the 
glow-worm  has  lit  her  lamp :  the  bat  is  circling 
about:  the  fragrant  breath  of  flowers  steals  into 
our  houses :  the  bees  hum  sonorous  music  amid  the 
pendent  flowers  of  the  tall  sycamore  tree :  the  cock- 
chaffer  is  hovering  around  it :  the  stag-beetle  in  the 
south  soars  cheerily  in  the  clear  air :  and  the  moth 
flutters  against  the  darkening  pane.  Go  forth  when 
the  business  of  the  day  is  over,  thou  who  art  pent 
in  city  toils,  and  stray  through  the  newly  shot  corn, 
along  the  grassy  and  hay-scented  fields ;  linger  beside 
the  solitary  woodland, — the  gale  of  heaven  is  stirring 
its  mighty  and  umbrageous  branches.  The  wild 
rose,  with  its  flowers  of  most  delicate  odour,  and  of 
every  tint,  from  the  deepest  red  to  the  purest  pearl ; 
the  wreathed  and  luscious  honeysuckle,  and  the  ver- 
durous, snowy-flowered  elder,  embellish  every  way 
side,  or  light  up  the  most  shadowy  region  of  the 
wood.  Field-peas  and  beans,  in  full  flower,  add 
their  spicy  aroma :  the  red  clover  is  at  once  splendid 
and  profuse  of  its  honeyed  breath.  The  young  corn 
is  bursting  into  ear  ; — the  awned  heads  of  rye,  wheat, 
and  barley,  and  the  nodding  panicles  of  oats,  shoot 
from  their  green  and  glaucous  stems,  in  broad,  level, 
and  waving  expanses  of  present  beauty  and  future 
promise.  The  very  waters  are  strewn  with  flowers ; 
the  buck-bean,  the  water-violet,  the  elegant  flower- 
ing-rush, and  the  queen  of  the  waters,  the  pure  and 
splendid  white  lily,  invest  every  stream  and  lonely 


JUNE.  167 

mere  with  grace.  The  mavis  and  the  merle,  those 
worthy  favourites  of  the  olden  bards,  and  the  wood- 
lark,  fill  the  solitude  with,  their  eloquent  evening 
songs. 

Over  its  own  sweet  voice  the  stock-dove  broods ; 

the  turtle  in  southern  woodlands  coos  plaintively ; 
arid  the  cuckoo  pours  its  mellowest  note  from  some 
region  of  twilight  shadow.  The  sunsets  of  this 
month  are  transcendently  glorious :  the  mighty  lu- 
minary goes  down  pavilioned  amidst  clouds  of  every 
hue — the  splendour  of  burnished  gold,  the  deepest 
mazarine  blue  fading  away  into  the  highest  heavens, 
to  the  palest  azure  ;  and  an  ocean  of  purple  is  flung 
over  the  twilight-woods,  or  the  far-stretching  and 
lonely  horizon.  The  heart  of  the  spectator  is 
touched :  it  is  melted  and  rapt  into  dreams  of  past 
and  present — pure,  elevated,  and  tinged  with  a  poetic 
tenderness,  which  can  never  awake  amid  the  crowds 
of  mortals  or  of  books. 

The  state  of  nature  I  have  described  is  just  that 
which  might  be  supposed  to  exist  with  perpetual 
summer;  there  are  sunshine,  beauty,  and  abundance, 
without  a  symptom  of  decay.  But  this  will  not  last- 
We  soon  perceive  the  floridity  of  Nature  merging 
into  a  verdant  monotony :  we  find  a  silence  stealing 
over  the  landscape,  so  lately  filled  with  the  voice  of 
every  creature's  exultation.  The  nightingale  is  gone, 
and  the  cuckoo  will  depart  in  less  time  than  is 
allowed  him  in  the  peasant's  traditionary  calendar. 


168  JUNE. 

Iii  April  the  cuckoo  shows  his  bill  ; 
In  May  he  sings  both  night  and  day  ; 
In  June  he  altereth  his  tune ; 
In  July  away  hell  fly  ; 
In  August  go  he  must. 

Anon,  the  scythe  is  heard  ringing, — a  sound  happy 
in  its  immediate  associations,  but,  in  fact,  a  note  of 
preparation  for  winter — a  knell  of  the  departing 
year.  It  reminds  us,  in  the  midst  of  warmth  and 
fertility,  that  we  must  prepare  for  nakedness  and 
frost;  and  that  stripping  away  of  the  earth's  glo- 
rious robe,  which,  when  it  begins,  will  never  cease 
till  it  leaves  us  in  the  dreary,  tempestuous  region  of 
winter;  so 

That  fair  flower  of  beauty  fades  away, 

As  doth  the  lily  fresh  before  the  sunny  ray. 

Great  enemy  to  it,  and  all  the  rest 

That  in  the  garden  of  fair  Nature  springs, 

Is  wicked  TIME,  who,  with  his  scythe  addressed, 

Doth  mow  the  flowering  herbs  and  goodly  things, 

And  all  their  glory  to  the  ground  down  flings, 

Where  they  do  wither,  and  are  foully  marred ; 

He  flies  about  and  with  his  flaggy  wings 

Beats  down  both  bud  and  leaf  without  regard, 

Ne  ever  pity  may  relent  his  malice  hard. 

Faery  Quecne,  b.  iii. 

Let  us  not,  however,  anticipate  too  sensitively  the 
progress  of  Time ;  let  us  rather  enjoy  the  summer 
festivities  which  surround  us.  The  green  fruits  of 
the  orchard  are  becoming  conspicuous,  and  the 
young  nuts  in  hedges  and  copses  peep  from  their 
fringed  husks;  the  garden  presents  ripe  cherries, 


JUNE.  169 

melting  strawberries;  and  gooseberries  and  currants 
assuming  tints  of  ripeness,  are  extremely  grateful. 
Grasses  are  now  in  flower;  and  when  the  larger 
species  are  collected  and  disposed  tastefully,  as  I 
have  seen  them  by  ladies,  in  vases,  polished  horns, 
and  over  pier-glasses,  they  retain  their  freshness 
through  the  year,  and  form,  with  their  elegantly 
pensile  panicles,  bearded  spikes,  and  silken  plumes, 
exceedingly  grateful  ornaments. 

Hay-harvest  has  commenced,  and,  in  some  south- 
ern counties,  if  the  weather  be  favourable,  is  com- 
pleted ;  but  next  month  may  be  considered  as  the 
general  season  of  hay-making. 

SUMMER  FLOODS.  Floods  in  the  summer  months 
are  not  unfrequent ;  and  when  they  spread  into  the 
mowing-grass,  do  immense  damage,  filling  it  with 
sand,  and  covering  it  with  an  adhesive  slime  that 
no  future  showers  will  wash  off.  Sometimes  they 
come  in  the  midst  of  hay-harvest;  and  then  may  be 
seen  haycocks  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  water, 
or  floating  down  the  flooded  valleys  in  vast  quanti- 
ties— here  people  intercepting  it  with  boats,  or  pull- 
ing it  out  with  rakes  and  hooks ;  there  plucking  it 
away  from  the  arches  of  bridges,  which  it  would 
soon  choke  and  cause  to  blow  up.  After  the  sub- 
siding of  the  waters,  hedges  and  copses  may  be  seen 
loaded  with  it,  a  melancholy  monument  of  incalcu- 
lable damage.  Yet  rivers  never  look  so  well  as 
when  they  are  swelled  bankfull  in  summer.  They 
have  a  noble  and  abundant  aspect,  and  rush  on 
their  way  magnificently  amid  views  in  the  pride  of 
15 


170  JUNE. 

their  bloom  and  greenness,  amid  the  deepest  grass 
and  the  richest  foliage ;  and  it  is  a  merry  sight  to 
see  the  little  boys  sporting  like  fishes  in  the  water 
where  it  has  spread  itself  in  shallow  expanses  on 
the  grass. 

Fishermen,  too,  take  advantage  of  these  floods. 
The  waters  are  rendered  turbid,  and  the  fish  are 
not  only  deprived  of  their  ordinary  quickness  of 
perception,  but  are  washed  out  of  their  usual  haunts. 
Men  may  be  seen  hastening  towards  the  rivers  with 
their  nets,  and  find  noble  sport  with  carp  and  barbel 
and  other  large  fish,  which  lie  luxuriating  on  the 
warm  banks  amid  the  fresh  herbage. 

SHEEP-SHEARING,  begun  last  month,*  is  generally 
completed  this.  It  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
operations  of  rural  life,  and,  from  the  most  ancient 
times,  it  has  been  regarded  as  a  season  of  gladness 
and  festivity.  The  simple  and  unvitiated  sense  of 
mankind  taught  them,  in  the  earlier  ages  of  society, 
that  the  bounty  of  nature  was  to  be  gathered  in 
with  thankfulness,  and  in  a  spirit  like  that  of  the 
Great  Giver,  a  spirit  of  blessing  and  benevolence. 
Therefore  did  they  join  with  the  brightness  and 
beauty  of  the  summer  the  sunshine  of  their  grateful 
souls,  and  collect  with  mirth  and  feasting  the  har- 
vests of  the  field,  of  the  forest,  and  of  the  flock. 
The  very  spirits  of  the  churlish,  the  hard  and  un- 
kindly natures  of  the  "  sons  of  Belial,"  gave  way 
before  the  united  influence  of  the  fair  and  plentiful 
time  and  of  natural  religion,  so  far  as  to  feast  their 
servants.  The  Bible,  that  treasury  of  the  customs 


JUNE.  171 

of  the  primitive  nations,  gives  a  most  lively  picture 
of  their  practice  in  this  particular.  Nabal,  "  a 
man  in  Maon,  whose  possessions  were  in  Carmel, 
and  who  had  three  thousand  sheep  and  a  thousand 
goats,  was  shearing  his  sheep  in  Carmel,"  when 
David,  knowing  it  to  be  a  time  of  abundance,  sent 
some  of  his  men  out  of  the  wilderness  to  solicit  pro- 
visions. The  men,  when  delivering  their  leader's 
message,  used  it  as  an  argument,  "for  we  are  come 
in  a  good  day."  Some  idea  may  also  be  formed  of 
the  preparations  on  such  occasions,  from  the  supply 
of  good  things  which  Nabal's  wife  "  made  haste" 
and  gave  to  David.  Two  hundred  loaves,  and  two 
bottles  of  wine,  and  five  sheep  ready  dressed,  and 
five  measures  of  parched  corn,  and  a  hundred  clus- 
ters of  raisins,  and  two  hundred  cakes  of  figs :  and 
it  is  added,  "Behold  Nabal  held  a  feast  in  his  house, 
like  the  feast  of  a  king." — SAMUEL,  ch.  xxv. 

Such  was  the  custom  in  this  country  in  the  old- 
fashioned  days.  It  was  a  time  of  merry-making : 
the  maidens,  in  their  best  attire,  waited  on  the 
shearers  to  receive  and  roll  up  the  fleeces.  A  feast 
was  made,  and  the  king  and  queen  elected ;  or,  ac- 
cording to  Drayton's  Polyolbion,  the  king  was  pre- 
elected  by  a  fortunate  circumstance. 

The  shepherd-king, 

Whose  flock  hath  chanced  that  year  the  earliest  lamb  to  bring, 
In  his  gay  baldric  sits  at  his  low,  grassy  board, 
With  flawns,  curds,  clouted  cream,  and  country  dainties  stored ; 
And,  while  the  bagpipes  play,  each  lusty,  jocund  swain 
Quaffs  syllabubs  in  cans  to  all  upon  the  plain ; 
And  to  their  country  girls,  whose  nosegays  they  do  wear ; 
Some  roundelays  do  sing,  the  rest  the  burden  bear. 


172  JUNE. 

Like  most  of  our  old  festivities,  however,  this  has,  of 
late  years,  declined ;  yet  two  instances  in  which  it 
has  been  attempted  to  keep  it  alive,  on  a  noble  scale, 
worthy  of  a  country  so  renowned  for  its  flocks  and 
fleeces,  will  occur  to  the  reader — those  of  Holkham 
and  Woburn :  and  in  the  wilds  of  Scotland,  and  the 
more  rural  parts  of  England,  the  ancient  glory  of 
sheep-shearing  has  not  entirely  departed.  And,  in- 
deed, its  picturesqueness  can  never  depart,  however 
its  jollity  may.  The  sheep-washing,  however,  which 
precedes  the  shearing,  has  more  of  rural  beauty 
about  it.  As  we  stroll  over  some  sunny  heath  or 
descend  into  some  sylvan  valley  in  this  sweet  month, 
we  are  apt  to  come  upon  such  scenes.  We  hear 
afar  off  the  bleating  of  flocks;  as  we  approach  some 
clear  stream,  we  behold  the  sheep  penned  on  its 
banks;  in  mid- stream  stand  sturdy  hinds  ready  to 
receive  them  as  they  are  plunged  in,  one  by  one, 
and  after  squeezing  their  saturated  fleeces  well  be- 
tween their  hands,  and  giving  them  one  good  sub- 
mersion, they  guide  them  to  the  opposite  bank.  The 
clear  running  waters,  the  quiet  fields,  the  whispering 
fresh  boughs  that  thicken  around,  and  the  poor  drip- 
ping creatures  themselves,  that,  after  giving  them- 
selves a  staggering  shake,  go  off  gladly  to  their 
pasture,  form  to  the  eye  an  animated  and  pleasant 
tout  ensemble. 

WILD  FLOWERS  AND  THEIR  ANCIENT  NAMES. 
Amongst  the  most  interesting  wild  flowers  now  in 
full  bloom,  are  the  dog-rose,  the  pimpernel,  thyme, 
and  white  bryony.  The  last  is  one  of  our  most  ele- 


JUNE.  173 

gant  plants.  Running  up  in  the  space  of  a  month, 
over  a  great  extent  of  hedge  or  thicket,  and  cover- 
ing it  with  its  long  twining  stems,  spiral  tendrils, 
green  vine-like  leaves,  and  graceful  flowers,  in  a 
beautiful  style  of  luxuriance,  it  is  deserving  more 
notice  than  it  has  yet  received,  and  seems  well-cal- 
culated for  clothing  bowers  and  trellis-work.  Many 
of  our  wild  flowers  derive  much  interest  from  the 
simple  and  poetical  names  given  them  by  our  rural 
ancestors  :  as  the  wind-flower ;  the  snap-dragon  ; 
the  shepherd's-purse  ;  the  bird's-eye  ;  the  fox-glove ; 
the  blue-bell ;  cuckoo-flower  ;  adder' s-tongue,  and 
hart's-tongue  ;  goldy-locks  ;  honesty  ;  heart's-ease  ; 
true-love ;  way-bread,  and  wayfaring  tree,  etc. 
Many  also  bear  the  traces  of  their  religious  feelings  ; 
and  still  more  remind  us  of  the  religious  orders  by 
whom  they  were  made  articles  of  their  materia 
medico,  or  materia  sancta,  each  flower  being  dedi- 
cated to  that  saint  near  whose  day  it  happened  to 
blow. 

HOLY  FLOWERS. 

Woe's  me — how  knowledge  makes  forlorn ; 
The  forest  and  the  field  are  shorn 
Of  their  old  growth,  the  holy  flowers  ; — 
Or  if  they  spring,  they  are  not  ours. 
In  ancient  days  the  peasant  saw 
Them  growing  in  the  woodland  shaw, 
And,  bending  to  his  daily  toil, 
Beheld  them  deck  the  leafy  soil ; 
They  sprang  around  his  cottage  door ; 
He  saw  them  on  the  heathy  moor  ; 
15* 


174  JUNE. 

Within  the  forest's  twilight  glade, 
Where  the  wild  deer  its  covert  made ; 
In  the  green  vale,  remote  and  still, 
And  gleaming  on  the  ancient  hill. 
The  days  are  distant  now,  gone  by 
With  the  old  times  of  minstrelsy, 
When  all  unblest  with  written  lore, 
Were  treasured  up  traditions  hoar  ; 
And  each  still  lake  and  mountain  lone 
Had  a  wild  legend  of  its  own ; 
And  hall,  and  cot,  and  valley-stream, 
Were  hallowed  by  the  minstrel's  dream. 

Then  musing  in  the  woodland  nook, 
Each  flower  was  as  a  written  book, 
Recalling,  by  memorial  quaint, 
The  holy  deed  of  martyred  saint, 
The  patient  faith,  which,  unsubdued, 
Grew  mightier  through  fire  and  blood. 
One  blossom,  'mid  its  leafy  shade, 
The  virgin's  purity  portrayed ; 
And  one,  with  cup  all  crimson  dyed, 
Spoke  of  a  Saviour  crucified  : 
And  rich  the  store  of  holy  thought 
That  little  forest-flower  brought. 
Doctrine  and  miracle,  whate'er 
We  draw  from  books,  was  treasured  there. 
Faith  in  the  wild  wood's  tangled  bound 
A  blessed  heritage  had  found ! 
And  Charity  and  Hope  were  seen 
In  the  lone  isle  and  wild  ravine. 
Then  pilgrims  in  the  forest  brown 
Slow  wandering  on  from  town  to  town, 
Halting  'mid  mosses  green  and  dank, 
Breathed  each  a  prayer  before  they  drank 
From  waters  by  the  pathway  side. 
Then  duly  morn  and  eventide, 
Before  those  ancient  crosses  gray. 
Now  mouldering  silently  away, 


JUNE,  175 

Aged  and  young  devoutly  bent 
In  simple  prayer,  how  eloquent ! 
For  eacli  good  gift  man  then  possessed 
Demanded  blessing  and  was  blest. 

What  though  in  our  pride's  selfish  mood, 
We  hold  those  times  as  dark  and  rude, — 
Yet  give  we,  from  our  wealth  of  mind, 
Feeling  more  grateful  or  refined  ? 
And  yield  we  unto  Nature  aught 
Of  loftier,  or  of  holier  thought, 
Than  they,  who  gave  sublimest  power 
To  the  small  spring  and  simple  flower  ? 

M.H. 

June  is  most  probably  named  from  Juno,  in  honour 
of  whom  a  festival  was  held  at  the  beginning  of  the 
month. 

An  old  author  says,  "  Unto  June  the  Saxons  gave 
the  name  of  Weyd-monath;  because  their  beasts  did 
weyd  in  the  meadows,  that  is,  go  to  feed  there  ;  and 
hereof  a  meadow  is  called  in  Teutonic,  a  weyd;  and 
of  weyd  we  retain  our  word  wade,  which  we  un- 
derstand of  going  through  watery  places  ;  such  as 
meadows  are  wont  to  be."  Another  author  says 
that  weyd  is  probably  derived  from  weyden  (Ger- 
man,) to  graze  or  to  pasture.  He  further  adds,  they 
call  it  Woed-monath,  weed  month,  and  also  Mede-mo- 
nath,  Midsomer-monath,  and  Br&cJi-monath,  thought 
to  be  from  the  breaking  up  of  the  soil,  from  braecan 
(Saxon) ;  they  also  called  it  Lida-erra.  The  word 
Lida,  or  Litha,  signifying  in  Icelandic,  to  move,  or 
pass  over,  may  imply  the  sun's  passing  over  its 
greatest  height ;  and  Lida-erra  consequently  means 


176  JUNE. 

the  first  month  of  the  sun's  descent.  Lida,  it  is 
added,  has  been  affirmed  to  mean  smooth  air. 

Peas,  beans,  the  Anthoxanthum  odoratum,  or  sweet- 
scented  vernal  grass,  now  diffuse  their  fragrance. 
The  common  jay  now  frequents  our  gardens,  and 
makes  havoc  in  the  bean-rows :  the  fox-glove  and 
the  wild  red  poppy  beautify  our  fields  and  wastes  : 
the  fern  owl  may  be  seen  about  the  middle  of  the 
month,  in  the  evening,  pursuing  the  fern-chaffer,  its 
favourite  prey :  mackerel  is  taken  in  abundance : 
the  elder-tree  is  in  flower,  and  the  grasshopper  is 
heard. 

RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Somer  is  yeomen  in, 

Loud  sing  cuckoo ; 

Groweth  seed 

And  bloweth  mead, 

And  springeth  the  weed  new. 

So  says  the  oldest  English  song ;  and  so  the  hus- 
bandman finds  it.  In  the  midland  counties  he  weeds 
his  green  corn,  dresses  and  manures  his  fallows, 
keeps  down  weeds,  especially  thistles  in  pastures, 
and  smothering  plants  in  young  fences.  Turnips 
are  sown,  and  in  the  midland  counties  Swedish  tur- 
nips. Old  pastures  are  pared  and  burnt :  fruit-trees 
require  clearing  of  insects,  and  hops  binding  to  the 
poles.  The  fields  are  full  of  grass,  and  the  dairy- 
maid full  of  employment :  compost  is  mixed  for  land  : 
sheep  now  require  much  attention,  and  daily,  almost 
hourly,  watching  to  defend  them  from  the  fly,  or  to 


JUNE.  177 

preserve  them  from  its  effects.  On  wide  heaths, 
where  the  sheep  are  often  small,  and  consequently 
of  less  individual  value,  and  where  also  they  cannot 
be  so  often  and  readily  seen,  great  numbers  fall  a 
prey  to  the  flies,  and  die  the  dreadful  death  of  being 
devoured  by  them  and  their  larvae.  In  my  summer 
rambles  I  see  continual  instances  of  this  melancholy 
nature ;  no  doubt  often  resulting  from  the  indolence 
of  the  shepherds.  Heavy,  long-wooled  sheep,  too, 
are  in  danger  of  being  overset,  in  which  situation 
they  will  destroy  themselves  by  their  struggles. 
From  these  dangers  they  are  relieved  by  the  annual 
washing  and  shearing  which  now  take  place.  Hay- 
making in  the  earlier  districts  is  now  going  on 
busily.  The  poor  find  some  employment  in  cutting 
heath  on  the  wastes  for  making  besoms.  A  great 
and  most  important  quantity  of  employment  they 
find  also  in  cutting  peat  and  turf  on  the  moors  and 
heaths  of  various  parts  of  the  kingdom.  What  is  a 
more  characteristic  feature  of  moorlands,  than  those 
black  pyramids  of  peat  that  are  piled  up  in  every 
direction  to  dry  through  the  summer,  and  in  autumn 
are  conveyed  away  into  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
farmhouse  and  cottage,  and  carefully  stacked,  or 
sent  into  the  neighbouring  towns  1  The  inhabitants 
of  coal  districts  little  know  the  value  of  our  moor- 
lands for  furnishing  fuel  and  employment  to  the 
poor.  In  many  £>arts  of  the  United  Kingdom,  in 
a  great  portion  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  and 
wastes  of  Ireland,  such  a  thing  as  coal  is  never 
seen ;  their  moors  and  bogs  supply  their  fires.  In 


178  JUNE. 

many  parts  of  England,  where  coal  is  scarce,  what 
would  the  poor  do  without  peat  or  turf?  No  one 
knows  the  value  of  a  sod,  or  a  gorse-bush,  who  has 
not  traversed  the  wastes  of  Cornwall,  where  timber 
and  coal  seem  equally  unknown,  and  the  little  stack 
of  turf  and  one  of  gorse  by  the  side  of  every  hut, 
carefully  thatched  and  secured  with  a  perfect  net- 
work of  rush-cords,  often  with  bricks  and  stones 
slung  across  them  by  similar  bands  to  prevent  the 
blustering  sea-winds  blowing  them  away,  tell  you 
of  the  high  value  of  that  which  in  other  counties  is 
rooted  out  as  a  nuisance.  I  have  crossed  high  heaths 
where  the  inhabitants  have  picked  the  bones  of 
mother  earth  to  bareness ;  paring  the  scanty  turf 
off,  year  after  year,  for  fuel,  till  nothing  remains  but 
the  naked  stone.  There  you  find  the  fireplace  shut 
up  with  little  iron  doors,  to  prevent  the  too  great 
consumption  of  fuel.  The  poor  seldom  indulge  in 
a  fire  except  to  cook  their  meals,  or  keep  it  in  from 
one  meal-time  to  another  by  the  merest  handful  of 
turf ;  and  at  a  country  inn  they  cook  your  steak,  or 
boil  the  kettle  for  your  tea,  by  lighting  a  piece  of 
dried  gorse,  and  blow  it  all  the  time  with  the  bel- 
lows into  an  active  blaze.  In  such  places  the  cut- 
ting, gathering,  and  stacking  of  peat  or  turf  is  a 
great  assistance  to  the  poor ;  and  I  have  seen  women 
employed  by  the  roadside,  stacking  up  what  ap- 
peared to  me  merely  dirt,  earning  at  this  solitary 
work  about  eight  pence  a  day.  In  the  garden,  the 
chief  occupations  consist  of  weeding,  watering,  and 
destroying  insects. 


JUNE.  179 


ANGLING. 

If  we  except  roach,  most  fresh-water  fish  are  now 
in  season :  bream  is  excellent,  and  may  be  caught 
in  the  deepest  places,  in  ponds  or  still  streams,  early 
in  the  morning,  or  late  in  the  evening,  by  a  very 
cautious  and  adroit  master  of  the  angle,  with  paste, 
wasp-grub,  dock-grub,  or  grasshopper.  Most  fish 
will  now  bite  eagerly,  and  fly-fishing  is  become 
animated,  especially  for  trout,  which  is  in  its  glory. 
The  angler's  life  is  now  delightful :  the  country 
about  him  is  a  paradise,  full  of  greenness  and  flowers, 
which  perfume  the  air ;  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
water  is  refreshing ;  the  birds  shower  their  music 
down  upon  him  from  every  bough ;  and  now,  if 
ever,  he  has  sport  to  his  heart's  content. 

FLIES.  From  the  1  st  to  the  24th,  the  green  drake 
and  stone  fly ;  from  the  12th  to  the  24th,  the  gray 
drake  and  the  owl  fly,  late  at  night ;  a  purple  hackle, 
a  gold  twist  hackle,  a  flesh  fly,  the  peacock  fly,  the 
ant  fly,  a  brown  gnat,  a  little  black  gnat,  a  grass- 
hopper. 

CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  II.  Order  1.    Jasminum  officinale,  White  Common  Jasmine.  10. 

Jastninum  v.  argent,  var.  Silver-striped  Common  Jasmine. 

Jasminum  v.  aurea,  var.  Gold-striped  Common  Jasmine. 

Calceolaria  pinnata,  Wing-leaved  Slipperworf.  8. 

III.  1.    Gladiolus  communis,  Red  Corn-flag.  7. 

Gladiolus  Byzantinus,  Larger  Corn-flag.  7. 

Iris  Virginica,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Virginian  Iris,  with  many  others. 

III.  2.    Briza  maxima,  Quaking-grass. 

IV.  1.     Budlea  globosa,  Globe-flowered  Budlea.  7. 
Scabiosa  Alpina,  Alpine  Scabious.  7. 


180  JUNE. 

Asperula  crassifolia,  Thick-leaved  Woodroof.  7. 

Alchemilla  pentaphylla,  Five-leaved  Ladies'  Mantle.  8. 

Alchemilla  argentata,  Silvery  Ladies'  Mantle.  8. 

V.  1.    Itea  Virginea,  Virginian  Itea.  8. 

Ampelopsis  quinquefolia,  Virginian  Creeper.  7. 

Lonicera  grata,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Evergreen  Honeysuckle,  with  many 

others.  10. 

Euonymus  latifolius,  Broad-leaved  Spindle-tree.  7. 
Vitis  vinifera,  Common  Grape.  7.  . 

Phlox  suaveolens,  White-flowered  Lychnidea.  7. 
Petunia  nyctaginiflora,  Marvel  of  Peru-flowered  Petunia.  9. 
Campanula  lilifolia,  Lily  Campanula.  8. 
Campanula  rapunculoides,  cum  aliis.    Nettle-leaved  Campanula,  with 

others.  7. 

V.  1.    Cynoglossum  linifolium,  Navelwort.  7. 
Convolvulus  lineatus,  Dwarf  Blindweed.  8. 
Asclepias  amocna,  Oval-leaved  Swallow-wort.  8. 
V.  2.    Gentiana  lutea,  Yellow  Gentian.  7. 
Gentiana  purpurea,  Purple  Gentian.  7. 
Gentiana  cruciata,  Crosswort  Gentian.  7. 
Eringium  Bourgati,  Cut-leaved  Eringo.  8. 
Eringium  Alpinum,  Alpine  Eringo.  8. 
V.  3.     Viburnum  cassinoides,  Thick-leaved  Viburnum.  7. 
Viburnum  dentatum,  Tooth-leaved  Viburnum.  7. 
Viburnum  v.pubescens,  Downy-leaved  Viburnum.  7. 

V.  5.     Linum  Austriacum,  Austrian  Flax. 
Linum  hirsutum,  Hirsute  Flax. 

VI.  1.    Allium  flavum,  cum  aliis.    Yellow  Garlic,  with  others.  7. 
Lilium  candidum,  White  Lily. 

Lilium  bulbiferum,  Orange  Lily. 

Lilium  Chalcedonicum,  Scarlet  Martagon  Lily.  7. 

Lilium  superbum,  Superb  Lily. 

Lilium  Martagon,  Common  Martagon  Lily.  7. 

Lilium  tigrinum,  Tiger  Lily.  7. 

Ornithogalum  Pyrenaicum,  Pyrenean  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Ornithogalum  comosum,  Short-spiked  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Hemerocallis  flava,  Yellow  Day-lily. 

Hemerocallis  fulva,  Tawny  Day-lily.  7. 

Hemerocallis  graminea,  Grassy  Day-lily.  7. 

VIII.  1.    Daphne  Tarton-raira,  Silver-leaved  Daphne.  7. 

Daphne  Gnidiurn,  Flax-leaved  Daphne.  7. 

CEnothera  Misouriensis,  CEnothera  Misour.  8. 

(Enotbera  Fraseri,  Eraser's  CEnothera.  7. 


JUNE.  181 

(Euolhera  biennis,  Evening  CEnothera.  9. 

(Enothera  purpurea,  Purple  CEnothera.  9. 

Epilobium  Dodonsei,  Dodonaeus's  Willow-herb.  7. 

Epilobium  cordifolium,  Heart-leaved  Willow-herb. 

Tropaeolum  majus,  Great  Nasturtium.  10. 

Tropseolum  minus,  Small  Nasturtium.  10. 

X.  1.    Kalmia  latifolia,  Broad-leaved  Kalmia  7. 

Kalmia  angustifolia,  Narrow-leaved  Kalmia.  7. 

Kalmia.  v.  carnea,  Pale-flowered  Kalmia. 

Rhododendron  maximum,  Large-leaved  Rhododendron. 

Rhododendron  punctatum,  Dotted  Rhododendron. 

Andromeda  Mariana,  cum  aliis.   Maryland  Andromeda,  with  others.  7. 

Sophora  flavescens,  Siberian  Sophora.  7. 

Dictamnus  albus,  Fraxinella.  7. 

X.  2.    Saxifraga  Geum,  Kidney-leaved  Saxifrage.  7. 

Dianthus    barbatus,   cum    mult,   aliis.      Sweet- William,    with    many 

others.  7. 

X.  3.     Silene  rupestris,  cum  aliis.     Rock  Catchfly,  with  others.  8. 
X.  4.    Sedum  Aizoon,  Yellow  Stonecrop.  7. 
Sedum  virens,  Green  Sedum.  7. 

X.  4.     Sedum  deficiens,  Round-leaved  Sedum. 
Agrostemma  coronaria,  Rose  Campion.  9. 
Lychnis  Chalcedonica,  Scarlet  Lychnis.  7. 
Cerastium  tomentosum,  Woolly  Chickweed.  7. 
Oxalis  stricta,  Upright  Oxalis.  8. 

XI.  2.     Agrimonia  odorata,  Sweet  Agrimony.  7. 

XI.  3,    Euphorbia  coralJoides,  cum  aliis.     Coral-stalked  Spurge,  with 
others.  9. 

Reseda  odorata,  Mignonette.  10. 

XII.  1.     Prunus  Lusitanica,  Portugal  Laurel. 
Philadelphus  inodorus,  Scentless  Syringa.  7. 
XII.  2.     Cratsegus  pyrifolia,  Pear-leaved  Thorn. 
XII.  4.     Spiraa  salicifolia,  Willow-leaved  Spirsea.  7. 

Spiraea  filipendula,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Dropwort,  with  many  others.  8. 

XII.  5.    Rubus  odoratus,  Flowering  Bramble.  7. 

Rosa  lutea,  Yellow  Rose. 

Rosa  mucosa,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Moss  Rose,  with  many  others. 

Potentilla  Pennsylvanica,  Pennsylvanian  Cinquefoil. 

Potentilla  recta,  Upright  Cinquefoil.  7. 

Potentilla  grandiflora,  Great-flowered  Cinquefoil.  7. 

Geum  potentilloides,  Cinquefoil  Avens. 

Geum  reptans,  Creeping  Avens.  8. 

16 


182  JUNE. 

XIII.  1.    Papaver  somniferus,  Carnation  Poppy.  7. 

Papaver  Rhoeas,  cum  aliis.   Dwarf  Poppy,  with  others.  7. 

Cistus  laurifolius,  Laurel-leaved  Cistus. 

Cistus  ladaniferus,  cum  aliis.     Gum  cistus,  with  others.  7. 

XIII.  3.     Delphinium  elatum,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Common  Larkspur, 

with  many  others.  8. 

Aconitum  Napellus,  cum  aliis.    Blue  Wolfsbane,  with  others.  7. 
XIII.  5.    Nigella  Romana,  cum  aliis.    Roman  Nigella  with  others.  9. 

XIII.  7.     Clematis  Virginiana,  cum  aliis  et  var.     Virginian  Virgin's- 
Bower,  with  others,  and  varieties.  5. 

Thalictrum  nigricum,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Simple-stalked  Thalictruna, 

with  many  others. 

Trollius  Asiaticus,  Asiatic  Globe-flower. 
Trollius  Americanus,  American  Globe-flower. 
Liriodendron  Tulipifera,  Common  Tulip-tree. 
Magnolia  grandiflora,  Laurel-leaved  Magnolia.  8. 
Ranunculus  plantanifolius,   cum  aliis.    Plantain-leaved  Ranunculus, 

with  others.  7. 

XIV.  2.    Bignonia  capreolata,  Two-leaved  Trumpet-flower. 
Linaria  purpurea,  cum  mult,  aliis.      Purple  Toad-flax,  with  many 

others.  9. 

Digitalis  lutea,  Yellow  Fox-glove.  8. 
Mimulus  guttatus,  Yellow  Monkey-flower. 

XV.  1.    Iberis  umbellata,  Purple  and  White  Candytuft. 
Alyssum  halesiafolium,  Sweet  Alyssum.  11. 

XVI.  2.    Passiflora  cerulea,  Blue  Passion-flower.  10. 
XVI.  5.    Geranium  angulosum,  Angular  Crane's-bill.  7. 
Geranium  palustre,  Marsh  Crane's-bill.  7. 

XVI.  5.    Geranium  sanguincum,  Bloody  Crane's-bill.  8. 

XVI.  7.    Althcea  rosea,  Hollyhock.  9. 

Malva  crispa,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Curled  Mallow,  with  many  others.  9. 

XVI.  8.    Hibiscus  Africanus,  African  Hibiscus.  10. 
Hibiscus  major,  Major  Hibiscus.  9. 

XVII.  2.    Corydalis  cucullaria,  Naked-stalked  Fumitory.  7. 
Corydalis  fungosa,  Spongy-flowered  Fumitory.  9. 
Robinia  jubata,  Bearded  Acacia.  7. 

XVII.  4.    Genista  Siberica,  Siberian  Genista.  8. 

Genista  Germanica,  German  Genista.  8. 

Genista  Hispanica,  Spanish  Genista.  8, 

Cytisus  Alpinus,  cum  aliis.     Alpine  Cytisus,  with  others. 

Colutea  arborescens,  Bladder  Senna.  8. 

Colutea  cruenta,  Eastern  Bladder.  7. 


JUNE.  183 

Ononis  antiquorum,  Tree  Rest-Harrow.  7. 

Orobus  lathyroides,  Upright  Bitter-Vetch. 

Lathyrus  odoratus,  Sweet  Pea.  7. 

Lathyrus  Tangitanus,  cum  aliis  et  var.    Tangier  Pea,  with  others  and 

varieties. 

Galega  officinalis,  Common  Goat's-rue.  8. 
Galega  Orientalis,  Oriental  Goat's-rue.  8. 
Astragalus  Onobrychis,  Purple-spiked  Milk- Vetch.  7. 
Trifolium  lupinaster,  Bastard  Lupine.  7. 
Trifolium  incarnatum,  Crimson  Trefoil. 
Scorpiurus  vermiculata,  Caterpillar.  7. 
Scorpiurus  muricata,  Prickly  Caterpillar.  7. 
Scorpiurus  subvillosa,  Villous  Caterpillar.  7. 
Medicago  polymorpha,  Hedgehogs.  7. 
Medicago  scutellata,  Snails.  7. 

Hippocrepis  unisiliquosa,  Single-podded  Horse-shoe  Vetch.  7. 
Hedysarum  saxatile,  Rock  Hedysarum. 
Hedysarum  coronarium,  French  Honeysuckle.  7. 
Hedysarum  Crista-galli,  Cock's-comb.  8. 
Coronilla  coronata,  Crown-flowered  Coronilla. 
Anthyllis  cornicina,  Hook-podded  Kidney- Vetch.  7. 
Lotus  cytisoides,  Cytissus-leaved  Lotus.  8. 

XVIII.  4.    Hypericum  calycinum,  cum  mult,  aliis.      Large-flowered 
St.  John's-wort,  with  many  others.  9. 

XIX.  1.    Crepis  rubra,  Red  Hawkweed.  7. 
Tolpis  barbata,  Yellow  Hawkweed.  7. 
Catananche  lutea,  Yellow  Catananche.  7. 

XIX.  1.    Gnaphalium  stachys,  Red  Everlasting.  10. 

Gnaphalium  Alpinum,  Alpine  Everlasting.  7. 

Chrysanthemum  millifol.  cum  mult.  var.  Tansy-leaved  Chrysanthe- 
mum, with  many  varieties. 

Achillaea  santolina,  cum  aliis.  Cotton-leaved  Milfoil  Lavender,  with 
others.  8. 

Senecio  elegans,  Jacobaja.  10. 

Zinnia  pauciflora,  Yellow  Zinnia.  7. 

Zinnia  multiflora,  Red  Zinnia.  7. 

XIX.  2.    Zinnia  elegans,  Elegant  Zinnia.  7. 

Zinnia  tumiflora,  Violet-coloured  Zinnia.  7. 

Zinnia  verticillata,  Whorl-leaved  Zinnia.  7. 

Anthemis  Pyrethrum,  Pellitory  of  Spain.  7. 

XIX.  3.  Centaurea  montana,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Mountain  Centaury, 
with  many  others.  8. 


184  JUNE. 

Helianthus  annuus,  var.    Dwarf  Annual  Sunflower.  10. 
Rudbeckia  hirta,  Hairy  Rudbeckia.  11. 

XIX.  4.    Calendula  officinalis,  cum  aliis.     Double  Marygold,  with 
others.  10. 

XX.  1.     Cypripedium  album,  White  Ladies'-Slipper.  7. 

XXI.  3.    Zea  Mays,  Indian  Corn.  7. 
Amaranthus  lividus,  Livid  Amaranth.  9. 
XXIII.  1.    Veratrum  album,  White  Hellebore.  8. 
Veratrum  nigrum,  Black  Hellebore.  7. 


SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  II.  Order  1.  Circsea  Lutetiana,  Common  Enchanter's  Night- 
shade. Locality,  Moist  shady  places.  Duration,  7. 

Veronica  Beccabunga,  Brook-lime.    Ditches.  8. 

Schizanthus  pinnatus,  Pinnate  Schizanthus.  10. 

Schizanthus  porrigens,  cum  aliis.  Spreading-stalked  Schizanthus,  with 
others.  10. 

Pinguicula  Lusitanica,  Pale  Butterwort.     Bogs  near  the  sea.  7. 

Utricularia  vulgaris,  Greater  Bladderwort.  Ditches  and  stagnant 
pools.  7. 

Salvia  verbenaca,  Wild  English  Clary.    In  stony  places.  10. 

III.  1.     Fedia  dentata,  Oval-fruited  Corn-salad.     Coin-fields.  7. 

Valeriana  officinalis,  Great  Wild  Valerian.     Banks  of  rivers.  7. 

Scirpus  sylvaticus,  Wood  Club-Rush.     Moist  woods.  8. 

III.  2.    Millium  effusum,  Spreading  Millet-grass.    Woods  and  shady 
places.  7. 

Aria  caryophyllea,  Silver  Hair-grass.     Sandy  heaths. 
Melica  nutans,  Mountain  Melic-Grass.     Mountainous  woods.  7. 
Dactylis  glomerata,  Rough  Cock's-foot  Grass.      Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 8. 

Bromus  sterilis,  Barren  Brome-Grass.     Fields  and  hedges.  7, 
Hordeum  murinum,  Wall-Barley.     Waste  ground.  8. 
Hordeum  pratense,  Meadow  Barley.    Meadows.  8. 
Hordeum  maritimum,  Sea  Barley.     Sandy  ground,  near  the  sea.  7. 

IV.  1.     Scabiosa  columbaria,  Small  Scabious.      Pastures  and  road- 
sides. 8. 

Galium  saxatile,  Smooth  Heath  Bedstraw.     Heaths.  8. 
Plantago  media,  Hoary  Plantain.     Pastures  and  meadows.  8. 
Plantago    coronopus,    Buck's-horn    Plantain.       Sandy    or    gravelly 
plains.  8. 


JUNE.  185 

Sanguisorba  officinalis,  Great  Burnet.    Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 
Cornus  sanguinea,  Wild  Dogwood.     Hedges.  7. 

Parietaria  officinalis,  Common  Wall-Pellitory.     Old  walls  and  ruins.  9. 
IV.  1.    Alchemilla  vulgaris,  Common  Ladies'-Mantle.    Meadows  and 
pastures.  8. 

IV.  3.  Potamogeton  lucens,  cum  aliis.  Shining  Pondweed,  with  others. 
Ditches,  ponds,  and  lakes.  7. 

V.  1.    Myosotis  palustris,  Great  Water  Scorpion-Grass.    Ditches  and 

wet  places.  8. 

Myosotis  arvenis,  Field  Scorpion-Grass.     Sandy  fields.  8. 
Cynoglossum  officinale,  Common  Hound's-Tongue.    Road-sides.  7. 
Borago  officinalis,  Common  Borage.     Waste  ground.  7. 
Lycopsis  arvensis,  Small  Buglos.     Corn-fields.  7. 
Echium    vulgare,     Common    Viper's    Buglos.      Fields    and    waste 

ground.  7. 
Primula    farinosa,    Bird's-eyes   Primrose.       Mountainous    bogs    in 

north.  7. 
Menyanthes    Jrifoliata,    Common   Buck-Bean.      Pools,   ditches,  and 

bogs.  7. 

Hottonia  palustris,  Common  Water-violet.     Pools  and  ditches.  8. 
Lysimachia  nummularia,  Moneywort.     Moist  woods  and  pastures.  7. 
Anagallis    arvensis,    Common    Scarlet    Pimpernel.       Gardens    and 

fields.  9. 

Convolvulus  arvensis,  Small  Bindweed.     Hedges  and  fields.  9. 
Convolvulus  Soldanella,  Sea  Bindweed.     Sandy  sea-shore.  7. 
Polemonium  cceruleum,  Blue  Jacob's  Ladder.    Mountainous  places, 

rare.  7. 

Campanula  hederacea,  Ivy-leaved  Bell-Flower.     Wet  shady  places.  8. 
Jasione  montana,  Sheep's  Scabious.     Sandy  fields.  8. 
Atropa  belladonna,  Deadly  Wightshade.     Amongst  ruins.  7. 
Solanum  dulcamara,  Woody  Nightshade.     Moist  hedges.  8. 
Solanum  nigrum,  Garden  Nightshade.     Cultivated  ground.  9 
Lonicera    periclymenum,    Common    Honeysuckle.        Hedges     and 

woods.  9. 

Glaux  maritima,  Sea  Milkwort.     Salt  Marshes.  7. 
V.  2.     Gentiana  acaulis,  Stemless  Gentian.     Alpine  rocks.  7. 
Daucus  Carota,  Wild  Carrot.    Borders  of  fields.  7. 
Scandix  Pecten-Veneris,  Common  Shepherd's-JN'eedle.    Corn-fields.  9. 
Myrrhis  temulenta,  Rough  Cow-Parsley.     Hedges.  7. 
Myrrhis  aromatica,  Broad-leaved  Cow-Parsley.     Road-sides.  7. 
Conium  maculatum,  Common  Hemlock.     Waste  ground.  8. 
Carum  Carui,  Common  Carraway.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 

16* 


186  JUNE. 

V.  3.    Sambucus  nigra,  Common  Elder.    Woods  and  hedges.  7. 
Viburnum    Opulus,    Common    Guelder    Rose.      Wet    woods     and 
hedges.  7. 

V.  5.    Linum  catharticum,  Purging  Flax.     Dry  pastures.  8. 
Sibbaldia  procumbens,  Procumbent  Sibbaldia.    Scotch  mountains.  8. 

VI.  1.    Ornithogalum  Pyrenaicum,  Tall  Star  of  Bethlehem.     Pastures, 
rare.  7. 

Nartheciom  ossifragum,  Lancashire  Asphodel.    Turf  bogs.  7. 

Acorus  calamus,  Common  Sweet  Flag.    Watery  places.  8. 

VI.  3.    Rumex  crispus,  Curled  Dock.     Woods,  fields,  and  hedges.  8. 

Rumex  acetosa,  Common  Sorrel.    Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 

Rumex  acetosella,  Sheep's  Sorrel.    Gravelly  ground.  8. 

VI.  3.    Tofieldia  palustris,  Scottish  Asphodel.    Bogs  on  the  Scottish 

mountains.  7. 
VI.  4.    Alisma  Damasonium,  Star-headed  Water-Plantain.      Ditches 

and  pools.  7. 
Alisma  natans,  Floating  Water-Plantain.    Mountainous  lakes.  7. 

VIII.  1.     Epilobium  Alpinum,  Alpine  Willow-Herb.      Mountainous 
bogs,  Scotland.  7. 

Vaccinium  Vitis  Idsea,  Cowberry.    Mountainous  bogs,  Scotland.  7. 

Vaccinium  Oxycoccus,  Cranberry.    Mossy  bogs.  7. 

Calluna  vulgaris,  Common  Ling.    Heaths.  7. 

Polygonum  Bistorta,  Great  Bistort.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 

Polygonum  viviparum,  Alpine  Bistort.     Alpine  situations.  7. 

Polygonum  Convolvulus,  Black  Bindweed.     Fields  and  gardens.  9. 

IX.  1.    Butomus  umbellatus,  Common  Flowering-Rush.    Ditches  and 
rivers.  8. 

X.  1.    Monotropa  Hypopitys,  Yellow  Bird's-nest,    In  woods.  7. 
Arbutus  Uva-ursi,  Red  Bearberry.    Alpine  heaths.  7  . 

X.  2.  Saxifraga  umbrosa,  London  Pride  Saxifrage.  Yorkshire  and 
Ireland.  7. 

Saxifraga  nivalis,  Clustered  Alpine  Saxifrage.  Wet  rocks  on  moun- 
tains. 7. 

Saxifraga  stellaris,  Starry  Saxifrage.    Wet  rocks  on  mountains.  7. 

Saxifraga  azoides,  Yellow  Mountain  Saxifrage.     Mountain  bogs.  9. 

Saxifraga  rivularis,  Alpine  Brook  Saxifrage.  By  rivulets  on  moun- 
tains. 7. 

Dianthus  ccesius,  Mountain  Pink.    Limestone  rocks.  7. 

X.  3.     Silene  Anglica,  English  Catchfly.     In  sandy  fields.  7. 

Silene  nutans,  Nottingham  Catchfly.  Limestone  and  sandstone 
rocks.  8. 


JUNE.  187 

Silene  acaulis,  Mossy  catchfly.    Highlands  of  Scotland.  7. 

Stellaria  glauca,  Glaucous  Marsh  Stitchwort.     Moist  meadows  and 

bogs.  7. 

Arenaria  peploides,  Sea-side  Sand  wort.    On  the  sea-coast.  8. 
Arenaria  rubella,  Little  Red  Sandwort.    Scotch  mountains.  7. 

X.  4.    Sedum  acre,  Wall-pepper,  or  Biting  Stonecrop.     Walls,  roofs, 

and  sandy  ground.  7. 

Sedum  villosum,  Hairy  Wall-pepper.    Mountainous  bogs.  7, 

Agrostemma  Githago,  Corn  Cockle.     Corn-fields.  8. 

Lychnis  Flos  Cuculi,  Ragged  Robin.     Moist  meadows.  7. 

iCerastium  Alpinum,  Alpine  Mouse-cared  Chickweed.  Scotch  moun- 
tains. 7. 

Spergula  arvensis,  Corn  Spurry.     Sandy  corn-fields.  8. 

Spergula  Saginoides,  Smooth  awl-shaped  Spurry.  Scotch  moun- 
tains. 8. 

XI.  2.      Agrimonia    Eupatoria,    Common    Agrimony.     Borders    of 
fields.  7. 

XII.  2.      Spirasa-Ulmaria,     Meadow-sweet.      Meadows    and    pas- 
tures. 7. 

XII.  3.  Rosa  involuta,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Prickly  unexpanded  Rose, 
with  many  others.  Scotland.  7. 

XII.  3.     Rubus  cffisius,  Blue  Bramble,   or   Dewberry.      Moist  bushy 
places.  7. 

Rubus  saxatilis,  Stone  Bramble.    Mountainous  woods.  7. 

Rubus  Chamaemorus,  Cloudberry.     Turfy  Alpine  bogs.  7. 

Potentilla  fruticosa,  Shrubby  Cinquefoil.     Mountainous  thickets.  9. 

Potentilla  Anserina,  Silver-Weed,  or  Wild  Tansy.     Moist  places.  7. 

Potentilla  rupestris,  Strawberry-leaved  Cinquefoil.  Rocks  in  Wales, 
rare.  7. 

Potentilla  argentea,  Hoary  Cinquefoil.    Gravelly  pastures.  7. 

Potentilla  reptans,  Common  Creeping  Cinquefoil.  Meadows  and 
pastures.  8. 

Tormentilla  officinalis,  Common  Tormentil.  Heaths  and  dry  pas- 
tures. 7. 

Tormentilla  reptans,  Trailing  Tormentil.    Borders  of  fields.  7. 

Geum  rivale,  Water-Avens.     Moist  Meadows.  7. 

Dryas  octopetala,  White  Mountain-Dryas.    Scotch  mountains.  8. 

Comarum  palustre,  Marsh  Cinquefoil.     Boggy  places.  7. 

XIII.  1.      Papaver  Argemone,   Long  rough-headed   Poppy.      Corn- 
fields. 7. 

Papaver  dubium,  Long  smooth-headed  Poppy.     Cultivated  fields.  7. 
Papaver  Rhreas,  Common  Red  Poppy.    Corn-fields.  7. 


188  JUNE. 

Papaver  Cambricum,  Yellow  Poppy.    Mountainous  places.  7. 

Tilla    grandifolia,    Broad-leaved    Downy    Lime-tree.      Woods    and 

hedges.  7. 

Cistus  guttatus,  Spotted  Annual  Cistus.     Sandy  pastures,  rare.  7. 
Cistus  Helianthemum,  Common  Dwaif  Cistus.    Chalky  and  sandy 

pastures.  8. 

XIII.  2.     Delphinium  consolida,  Field  Larkspur.     Corn-fields.  7. 
Aquilegia  vulgaris,  Common  Columbine.     Woods  and  hedges.  7. 

XIII.  3.    Thalictrum  Alpinum,  Alpine  Meadow-Rue.      Mountainous 
places.  7. 

Thalictrum  flayum,  Common  Meadow-Rue.    Wet  meadows.  7. 
Ranunculus  tiammula,  cum  aliis.     Lesser  Spearwort  Crowfoot,  with 
others.     Watery  places.  8. 

XIV.  1.  Mentha  arvensis,  Corn  Mint.    Corn-fields.  9. 

XIV.  2.    Rhinanthus  Crista-galli,  Common  Yellow  Rattle.    Meadows 
and  pastures.  9. 

Melampyrum  sylvaticum.  Wood  Cow-Wheat.    Alpine  woods.  7. 
Pedicularis  palustris,  Marsh  Lousewort.    Bogs.  7. 
Pedicularis    sylvatica,  Common  Lousewort.    Wet  pastures.  7. 
Antirrhinum    Linaria,    Common    Yellow    Toad-flax.      Hedges    and 

banks.  7. 

Digitalis  purpurea,  Purple  Foxglove.     Hedges  and  pastures.  7. 
Orobanche  major,  Greater  Broom-Rape.     Roots  of  broom,  etc.  7. 

XV.  1.     Cakile  maritima,  Purple  Sea-Rocket.     Sandy  sea- coast.  9. 
XV.  2.    Nasturtium    offictnale,  Common  Watercress.     Springs  and 

rivulets.  7. 

Nasturtium  amphibium,  Amphibious  Watercress.   Banks  of  streams.  8. 
Sisymbrium  officinale  Common  Hedge  Mustard.     Waste  ground.  7. 

XV.  2.     Brassica  Monensis,  Isle  of  Man  Cabbage.     Sandy  coast.  7. 
Raphanus  Raphanistrum,  Wild  Radish.     Corn-fields.  7. 

XVI.  2.     Geranium   sylvaticum,  Wood  Crane's-bill.      Woods  and 
thickets  7. 

Geranium  pratense,  Blue  Meadow  Crane's-bill.     Meadows.  7. 

Geranium  Pyrenaicum,  Dove's-foot  Crane's-bill.  Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 7. 

Geranium  rotundifolium,  Soft  round-leaved  Crane's-bill.  Waste 
ground.  7. 

Geranium  columbinum,  Long-stalked  Crane's-bill.    Dry  banks.  9. 

XVI.  3.     Malva  rotundifolia,  Dwarf  Mallow.     Way -sides,  9. 

XVII.  1.     Fumaria  claviculata,  White  Climbing  Fumitory.      Woods 
and  hedges.  7. 


JUNE.  189 

XVII.  2.  Polygala  vulgaris,  Common  Milkwort.  Pastures  and 
heaths.  8. 

XVII.  3.  Ononis  arvensis,  Common  Rest-Harrow.     Pastures  and  mea- 
dows. 8. 

Anthyllis  vulneraria,  Common  Kidney-Vetch.     Limestone  soil.  8. 

Hedysarum  Onobrychis,  Common  Saint  foin.  Chalky  and  limestone 
soils.  7. 

Astragalus  glycyphyllos,  Wild  Liquoria,  or  Milk-Vetch.  Woods  and 
hedges.  7. 

Astragalus  hypoglottis,  Purple  Mountain  Liquoria.  Mountainous 
heaths.  7. 

Trifolium  officinale,  cum  aliis.  Common  Melilot,  with  others.  Bor- 
ders of  fields.  7. 

Lotus  corniculatus,  Common  Bird's-foot  Trefoil.     Pastures  9. 

Medicago  sativa,  Lucerne  Trefoil.     Woods  and  chalky  fields.  7. 

XVIII.  1.     Hypericum  hirsutum,  Hairy  St.  John's-wort.    Woods  and 
hedges.  7. 

XIX.  1.    Tragopogon  pratensis,  Yellow  Goat's-beard.    Meadows  and 
pastures.  7. 

Picris  echioides,  Bristly  Ox-tongue.    Borders  of  fields.  7. 

Hieracium  aurantiacum,  Orange  Hawkweed.    Mountainous  woods.  7. 

Hiaracium  murorum,  Wall  Hawkweed.     Walls  and  rocks.  7. 

Hieracium  sylvaticum,  Wood  Hawkweed.     Walls  and  dry  banks.  7. 

Crepis  tectorum,  Smooth  Hawk's-beard.     Dry  chalky  ground.  7. 

Crepis  biennis,  Rough  Hawk's-beard.    Chalky  pastures.  7. 

Hypochaeris  radicata,  Long-rooted  Cat's-ear.  Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 7. 

Cnicus  lanceolatus,  Spear  Plume-Thistle.    Waste  ground.  7. 

Cnicus  pratensis,  Meadow  Plume-Thistle.    Wet  pastures.  9. 

Carlina  vulgaris,  Common  Carline  Thistle.     Heaths.  8. 

XIX.  2.  Gnaphalium  dioicum,  Mountain  Cudweed.  Heathy  pas- 
tures. 7, 

Cineraria  palustris,  Marsh  Flea-wort.     Pools  and  ditches.  7. 

Chrysanthemum  Leucanthemum,  Great  Ox-eye  Daisy.  Meadows  and 
pastures.  7. 

Chrysanthemum  segetum,  Yellow  Corn  Marygold.  Corn  and  turnip- 
fields.  8. 

XIX.  2.  Achillea  Millefolium,  Common  Yarrow,  or  Milfoil.  Mea- 
dows and  pastures.  8. 

XIX.  3.    Centaurea  nigra,  Black  Knapweed,  Hardiron.      Pastures, 
etc.  8. 

XX.  1.    Orchis  bifolia,  Butterfly  Orchis.     Woods.  7. 


190  JUNE. 

Orchis  ustulata,  Dwarf  dark-winged  Orchis.    Limestone,  and  chalky 

fields.  7. 

Orchis  abida,  White  cluster-rooted  Orchis.    Mountain  pastures.  7. 
Orchis  viridis,  Frog  Orchis.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 
Orchis  rnaculata,  Spotted  Palmate  Orchis.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 
Orchis  conopsea,  Aromatic  Orchis.     Meadows  and  pastures.  7. 
Aceras  anthropophora,  Green  Man-Orchis.    1 
Herminium  monorchis,  Green  Musk-Orchis.  >  Chalky  pastures.  7. 
Ophrys  muscifera,  Fly  Orchis.  ) 

Listera  ovata,  Common  Tway-blade.     Pastures  and  woods. 

Epipactis  purpurata.  Purple-leaved  Helleborine.  )  _,, 

>  Shady  woods, 
kpipactis  grandinora,  Large  White  Helleborine.  ^ 

Epipactis  rubra,  Purple  Helleborine.     Mountainous  woods.  7. 

XX.  2.    Cypripedium  Calceolus,  Common  Ladies'-Slipper.    Woods, 
Yorkshire. 

XXI.  1.     Euphorbia  Hiberna,  Irish  Spurge.    Woods  and  thickets. 
XXI.  2.   Typha  augustifolia,  Lesser  Reed-mace.    Ponds  and  ditches.  7. 
Carex  pulicaris,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Flea  Carex,  or  Sedge,  with  many 

others.    Heaths,  etc. 

XXI.  3.     Urtica  pilulifera,  Roman  Nettle.    Near  the  sea.  7. 

XXII.  1.     Salix    pentandra,    cum    mult,    aliis.      Sweet    Bay-leaved 
Willow,  with  many  others.    Moist  Hedges.  7. 

XXII.  5.    Tamus  communis,  common  Black  Bryony.    Hedges.  7. 

XXIII.  1.     Atriplex  patula,  Spreading  Orache.    Waste  ground.  9. 

XXIV.  1.     Polypodium  Phegopteris,  Pale  Mountain  Polypody.   North 
of  England  and  Scotland.  7. 

Aspidium  Filix  mas,  Male  Shield-Fern.    Woods  and  banks.  7. 
Aspidium  Filix  foemina,  Female  Shield-Fern.     Marshy  places.  7. 
Cystea  fragilis,  Brittle  Bladder-Fen.    Wet  rocks.  7. 
Asplenium  Ruta  murraria,  Wall  Rue  Spleenwort.    Rocks  and  old 

walls.  10. 
Asplenium    Adiantum     nigrum,    Black    Maiden-Hair.      Rocks    and 

walls.  10. 

Osmunda  regalis,  Common  Osmund  Royal.    Boggy  places.  7. 
Botrichium  Lunaria,  Moonwort.     Pastures.  7. 
Lycopodium  Selago,  Fir  Club-Moss.    Mountainous  heaths.  8. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OP  BRITISH  INSECTS. 


Cicindela  sylvatica.  )      r      ,.      ,,  ,r    .,   „,   - 

J,  >     Locality,  Heaths,  Suffolk.    Month,  To  7. 

Cicindela  sylvicola.  { 


JUNE.  191 

Carabus  arvensis.    Mountainous  Heaths. 

Carabus  violaceus.    Under  stones  and  in  pathways.    To  9. 

Carabus  glabratus.     Norfolk  and  Cumberland.     To  7. 

Calosoma  inquisitor.     Hedges,  Windsor.    To  7. 

Agonum  sex-punctatum.    Damp  places. 

Calathus  rufangulus.     Sandy  places.     To  9. 

Omaceus  melanarius. 

Steropus  madidus. 

Patrobus  rufipes.  > 

Platysmaniger.    J     Under  stones  in  damp  places.     To  8. 

Harpalus  seneus.     Pathways.     To  10. 
Elaphrus  cuprues.     River  banks.    To  8. 
Colymbetes  maculatus.     Running  streams.    To  9. 
Hydaticus  stagnalis.    Ponds  in  the  south.    To  7. 


V     Under  stones.    To.  10. 


t  ~      ,      .      ,         ,  „      .  ^  To  9. 
>  Dead  animals  and  fungi.  1  _    , 
\  =    }  To  10. 


Necrodes  littoralis. 

Silpha  reticulata.     Sandy  places.    To  7. 

Nitidula  discoidea.    Dead  animals.    To  7. 

Dermestes  murinus.     Dry  decayed  skins.    To  7. 

Hister  bimaculatus.    Sandy  places  and  dung.    To  8. 

Lucanus  Cervus,  Stag-Beetle.    Oak-woods,  Kent,  etc.    To  7. 

Bolbocerus  mobilicornis.     Norfolk.    To  7. 

Geotrupes  stercorarius,  Common  Dor-Beetle.     Dung.    To  8. 

Serica  brunnea.     Dead  animals  and  foxglove.    To  7. 

Amphimalla  solstitialis,  Lesser  Cockchaffer.     White  thorn  hedges. 

To  7. 
Melolontha  Fullo,  Great  Variegated  Cockchaffer.    South  of  England. 

To  7. 

Anomola  Frishii.    Sea-coast.    Matlock.    To  7. 
Hoplia  argentea.     Sandy  places.    To  7. 
Trichius  fasciatus.     Umbelliferous  plants.     To  7. 
Trichius  variabilis.     Decayed  trees,  Windsor.     To  7, 
Trichiua  nobilis.    Flowers  of  the  Dog-Rose.    To  7. 
Elater  sanguineus.    South  of  England.    To  7. 
Cleniocerus  pectinicornis.    Meadows  and  woods.    To  7. 
Cleniocerus  seneus.    Under  stones,  sandy  places.    To  8. 
Atopa  cervina.    On  nettles.    To  7. 
Lampyris  noctiluca,  Glow-worm.    On  dry  banks.    To  8. 
Malthinus  flavus.  J 

Malachius  aeneus.  >  Woods  and  hedges.    To  7. 

Malachius  bipustulatus.  j 
Tillus  ambulans.  1 

Tillus  unifascialus.  >  Woods,  etc.    To  7. 

Thanasimus  formicarius.  J  To  8. 


CionusHortulanus.''Gardens-    To  7' 


192  JUNE. 

Necrobia  ruficollis.    Amongst  bones.    To  8. 
Ptilinus  pectinicornis.  >  C  To  9. 

Ptinus  imperial.  \  Deca*ed  trees"  )  To  7. 

Hylurgus  piniperda.    Pine  branches.    To  7. 
Clonus  Scrophulariae.    On  the  Water-betony.    To  7. 
Clonus  Verbasci.       ) 

Cryptorhynchus  Lapathi.     Osier-holts.     To  7. 

Balaninus  Nucum.    Hazel  bushes.    To  7. 

Hypera  Rumicis.     On  various  species  of  Dock.     To  7. 

Alophus  Vau.     Sandy  places.    To  7. 

Cleonus  sulcirostris.     Under  stones. 

Rhynchites  oequatus.    On  the  White-thorn.    To  7. 

Apoderus  Avellanae.    On  the  Hazel-tree.    To  7. 

Bruchus  Pisi.     Pea-fields.    To  7. 

Cerambyx  moschatus,  Musk-beetle.    Osier-holts.    To  7. 

Monochamus  Sutor.    Willow-trees.    To  7. 

Lamia  nubila.     Trunks  of  trees. 

Saperda  Populnea.    Trunks  of  Poplars.    To  7. 

Saperda  ferrea.    On  the  Tilia  parvifolia. 

Callidium  bajulum.    Trunks  of  trees.    To  7. 

Callidium  violaceum.    Pine  timber.    To  7. 

Callidium  Alni.     Woods,  on  faggots.    To  8. 

Clytus  mysticus.    Woods.    To  7. 

Clytus  Arietis.     Borders  of  woods.     To  7. 

Rhagium  inquisitor.     Woods.     To  7. 

Rhagium  bifasciatum.     Decayed  Pine-trees.    To  7. 

Toxotus  meridianus.    Woods  and  hedges.    To  7. 

Leptura  elongata.    Borders  of  woods.    To  8. 

Leptura  ruficornis.    Hedges.    To  7. 

Donacia  micans.    Aquatic  plants.    To  7. 

Crioceris  merdigera.    On  the  White  Lily.    To  7. 

Crioceris  cyanella.     Woods  and  hedges.    To  7  and  8. 

Adimonia  Halensis.    Woods  and  Heaths.    To  7  and  8. 

Galeruca  Tanaceti.    Heath,  etc.    To  7  and  8. 

Chrysomela  graminis.     Fields,  etc.    To  7. 

Chrysomela  Populi.    Willows  and  Poplars.    To  7. 

Cryptocephalus  sericeus.    On  Syngenesious  flowers.     To  7. 

Cassida  equestris.    On  the  Stachys  sylvatica.    To  7. 

Cassida  ferruginea.     Weedy  banks.    To  7. 

Coccinella  ocellata.     Beech-trees.    To  7. 

Coccinella  11-punctata.    Woods  and  hedges.    To  7. 


JUNE.  193 

Lagria  hirta.    On  the  White-thorn.    To  7. 

Pyrochroa  rubens.    Woods.    To  7. 

Cantharis  vesicatoria,  Blister-fly.    On  the  Ash-tree,  rare.    To.  7. 

Creophilus  maxillosus.     Dead  animals.    To  7  and  8. 

Oxyporous  rufus.     On  fungi.     To  7. 

Labia  minor.     JNear  stables.     To  8. 

Labidura  gigantea.    On  the  sea-coast.    To  7. 

Gonepteryx  Rhamni,  Brimstone  Butterfly.    Woods  and  heaths.     And 

9  and  2. 
Colias  Hyale,  Pale-clouded  Yellow  Butterfly.    Kent,  etc.  in  meadows. 

And  9. 

Pontia  Sabellicoe.     South  of  England. 

Pieris  Crataegi,  Black-veined  White  Butterfly.    Gardens  and  thickets. 
Melittea  Pyronia,  Dark  Under-wing  Fritillary.     Fields  and  marshes 

near  London. 

Melitaea  Cinxia,  Glanville  Fritillary.    Meadows  in  the  south. 
Argynnis  Adippe,  High-brown  Fritillary.     Woods.     To  7  and  8. 
Vanessa  C.  album,  Comma  Butterfly.    Woods  and  heaths.     And  9. 
Vanessa  urticae,  Small  Tortoiseshell  Butterfly.      Lanes   and  fields. 

And  9. 

Hipparchia  Galathea,  Marbled  White  Butterfly.    Woods.    To  7. 
Hipparchia  Janira,  Meadow  Brown  Butterfly.    Grassy  lanes.    To  7 

and  8. 
Hipparchia  Hyperanthus,  Common  Ringlet  Butterfly.    Grassy  woods. 

To  7. 

Hipparchia  Polydama,  Marsh  Butterfly.    Wales.    To  7. 
Hipparchia  Pamphilus,  Small  Heath  Butterfly.    Heaths,  etc.    And  9. 
Polyommatus  Dorylas.     Darenth  wood. 
Polyommatus  Icarius.     Kent.     And  9. 
Polyommatus   Agestis,    Brown  Argus.      Woods  and  fields.      To   8 

and  9. 

Polyommatus  Artaxerxes,  Scotch  Argus.    Scotland,  etc.    And  8. 
Ino  Statices,  Green  Forester.    Woods  and  meadows.  8. 
Anthrocera  Loti,  Five-spot  Burnett.    Moist  woods. 
Anthrocera   Filipendulae,  Six-spot    Burnett.    Heaths    and  meadows. 

And  7. 

Smerinthus  Populi,  Poplar  Hawk-Moth.    Near  Poplars.  7. 
Sphinx  Ligustri,  Privet  Hawk-Moth.    Amongst  Privet  bushes.  7. 
Deilephila  Euphorbias,   Spotted  Elephant  Hawk-Moth.    Devonshire, 

etc.  7. 

Deilephila  Elpenor,  Ladies'  Bed-straw.    Marshes,  etc.  7. 
17 


194  JUNE. 

Deilephila  Porcellus,  Small  Elephant  Hawk-Moth.    Woods  in  the 

south.  7. 

Trochilium  Apiformis,  Hornet-Moth.    Woods.  7. 
^Egeria  Tipuliformis,  Currant  Hawk-Moth.     Gardens.     And  7. 
./Egeria  Formiciformis,  Flame-tipped  Redbelt.     Meadows.  7. 
Hepialus  Hectus,  Gold  Swift.    Open  places  in  woods.     And  7. 
Pygera  bucephela,  Buff-tip  Moth.    Gardens  and  fields.    And  7. 
Lasiocampa  Roboris,  Great  Egger  Moth.    On  heaths.    And  7. 
Leucoma  Salicis,  White  Satin  Moth.    Near  Willows.    And  7. 
Hypercompa  Dominula,  Scarlet  Tiger  Moth.    Woods.     And  7. 
Euthemonia  Russula,  Clouded  Buff  Moth.  Woods  and  heaths.    And  7. 
Arctia  Villica,  Cream-spot  Tiger.    Plantations.  7. 
Nemeophila  Plantaginis,  Wood  Tiger.    Woods.    And  7. 
Spilosoma  papyratia,  Water  Ermine.     Moist  woods.  7. 
Plusia  chrysitis,  Burnished-brass.    Gardens  and  fields.    And  7. 
Anarta  Myrtilli,  Beautiful  Yellow  Under-wing.    Heaths.    And  7. 
Abraxas  Ulmata,  Scarce  Magpie.    Near  Elms.    And  7. 
Abraxas  Grossulariata,  Currant  Magpie.    Gardens.    And  7. 
Pteorophorus  pentadactylus,  White  Plume.    Hedges.    And  8. 
Cercopis  sanguinolenta.    Woods  and  hedges.     And  7. 

\ 

Calosoma  inquisitor.  Indepently  of  the  beautiful 
colouring  of  the  genus  to  which  this  species  belongs, 
the  insects  it  comprises  differ  from  most  of  the  Geo- 
dephaga  by  peculiarity  of  habit ;  leaving  their  con- 
geners to  pursue  their  prey  upon  the  ground,  they 
climb  in  pursuit  of  caterpillars  over  hedges,  and 
even  to  the  tops  of  trees,  and  fly  with  a  celerity  only 
equalled  by  the  Cicindeliadae.  The  grubs  or  larvae 
are  so  voracious  as  to  gorge  till  they  become  quite 
helpless,  in  which  state  they  are  devoured  by  those 
of  their  brethren  whose  "  famine  is  not  filled." 

Agonum  sex-punctatum.  Several  authors  have 
stated  that,  since  the  year  1812,  this  insect  has  dis- 
appeared ;  it  once,  however,  occurred  in  this  county 
in  1828. 


JUNE.  195 

Calathurs  unfangulus.  The  best  method  of  obtain- 
ing this  elegant  and  local  insect  is,  by  shaking  loose 
sods  of  turf  in  sandy  places. 

Patrobus  rufipes.  Mr.  Stephens  must  have  been 
mistaken  when  he  asserted  this  to  be  a  littoral  insect. 
In  this  part  of  the  kingdom,  it  occurs  on  the  banks 
of  rivers  and  ditches,  in  woods,  and  even  on  the 
summits  of  the  Derbyshire  mountains. 

Colymbetes  maculatus.  This  beautiful  but  varia- 
ble aquatic  beetle,  which  is  so  accurately  figured  by 
Mr.  Samouelle,  in  p.  3.  f.  15,  of  his  "  Useful  Com- 
pendium,"has  generally  been  considered  a  local  and 
even  a  rare  species :  it  is,  however,  abundant  in 
several  of  the  midland  counties,  in  running  ditches 
and  small  rivulets. 

Lucanus  Cervus.  The  Stag-Beetle  may  be  con- 
sidered the  king  of  British  beetles ;  it  is  extremely 
abundant  in  the  southern  counties,  particularly  in 
the  vicinity  of  old  oak  woods,  the  decayed  stumps 
of  which  its  larvae  inhabit  and  destroy.  I  have  not 
heard  of  its  being  taken  farther  north  than  Wor- 
cester. 

Geotrupes  stercorarius.  Common  Dor-Beetle,  or 
Shard-borne  Beetle.  This  well  known  insect,  which 
has  buzzed  in  the  face  of  every  evening  rambler, 
could  not  escape  the  notice  of  so  accurate  an  ob- 
server as  Shakspeare  ;  like  the  bat  that  "  flits  by  on 
leathern  wing,"  he  regards  it  as  an  indicator  of  time. 
Macbeth  says  to  his  lady, 

Ere  to  black  Hecate's  summons, 
The  shard-borne  beetle,  with  his  drowsy  hums, 


196  JUNE. 

Hath  rung  night's  yawning  peal,  there  shall  be  done 
A  deed  of  dreadful  note. 

But,  independent  of  poetic  associations,  this  insect  is 
of  real  utility  to  the  agriculturist.  By  perforating 
the  earth  underneath  the  dung  of  animals,  he  becomes 
a  valuable  agent,  rendering  that  which  would  be 
deleterious  in  the  mass  productive  by  dispersion. 

Lampyris  noctiluca.  The  bulk  of  entomologists 
have  copied  each  other  in  the  error  of  asserting  that 
the  female  glow-worm  alone  is  luminous :  at  any 
rate,  all  the  males  taken  in  this  county  (and  they  are 
unquestionably  of  this  species)  have  had  luminous 
segments  to  the  abdomen. 

Cryptorhynchus  Lapathi.  This  insect,  in  its  larva 
state,  does  incredible  mischief  in  osier-holts:  the 
basket-makers  call  it  the  weevil-maggot.  I  am  in- 
formed, by  a  cultivator  of  osiers,  that  the  perfect 
insect  appears  abundantly  every  alternate  year.  This 
may  indicate  its  duration  in  the  larva  state. 

Balaninus  Nucum.  A  most  curious  insect,  with 
a  rostrum  extremely  slender,  and  longer  than  its 
body.  It  inhabits  hazel  bushes,  and  with  its  rostrum 
perforates  the  nut  whilst  young,  depositing  one  egg 
in  each  ;  the  wound  heals,  and  the  larva  which  pro- 
ceeds from  the  egg,  is  completely  enclosed  by  the 
shell ;  it  feeds  upon  the  kernel  until  full  grown,  when 
it  eats  its  way  out,  retires  under  ground,  and  changes 
to  a  pupa,  appearing  next  year  as  a  perfect  insect 

Cerambyx  moschatus.  One  of  our  largest  and 
most  beautiful  indigenous  beetles,  may  be  found 


JUNE.  197 

abundantly  in  osier-holts  in  this  and  the  next  month, 
where  you  have  evidence  of  its  existence  before  it 
is  seen,  by  the  fragrant  odour  which  it  emits.  Its 
scent  is  not  of  musk,  as  the  name  implies,  but  of 
the  finest  otto  of  rose.  Would  it  not  have  been 
better  to  have  adopted  the  synonym  of  De  Geer 
(odoratus),  or  to  have  substituted  that  of  roseatus, 
than  to  perpetuate  error  by  a  scrupulous  adherence 
to  the  Linnasan  name  1 

Saperda  ferrea.  This  insect,  lately  recorded  as 
British  by  Mr.  Curtis,  was  first  captured  in  this 
county  more  than  a  month  previous  to  its  being 
taken  near  Manchester.  With  us  it  is  only  taken 
during  this  month ;  the  difference  in  latitude  may 
account  for  the  difference  in  time. 

Rhagium  bifasciatum.  Perhaps  it  may  not  gene- 
rally be  known  that  this  insect  breeds  in  the  decayed 
stumps  of  the  Scotch  fir :  such  is,  however,  the  fact ; 
for,  in  the  months  of  March  and  April,  the  perfect 
insect  may  be  dug  out  in  great  abundance ;  but  in 
the  summer  it  may  be  taken  on  the  foliage  of  various 
trees,  and  usually  haunts  the  skirts  of  woods. 

Hepialus  Hectus.  The  insects  of  this  genus  ge- 
nerally frequent  meadows  and  churchyards  during 
the  evening.  They  have  an  undulating  flight,  fre- 
quently hovering  for  a  considerable  time  near  one 
spot,  and,  from  this,  together  with  their  light  tints, 
they  have  obtained  the  popular  appellation  of  ghosts. 

Cercopis  sanguinolenta.  This  little  insect,  which 
is  amongst  the  largest  of  our  Cicadas,  is  most  beau- 
tifully variegated  with  red  and  black,  and  leaping 
17* 


198  JUNE. 

from  one  plant  to  another  in  bushy  places  frequently 
attracts  the  attention  of  persons  otherwise  in  no  way 
addicted  to  entomological  pursuits.  In  this  part  of 
the  country  it  appears  a  local  insect,  but  is  more 
abundant  in  the  south.  The  musical  Cicada  of  the 
Greeks,  and  the  shrill  ones  of  the  Italians,  are  nearly 
allied  to  the  above ;  but  if  we  except  an  insect,  taken 
some  years  ago  by  Mr.  Bydder,  in  the  New  Forest, 
there  are  no  musical  species  in  this  country.  Some 
of  the  American  ones,  however,  have  a  note  ex- 
tremely loud.  Captain  Hancock  heard  them  in 
Brazil  to  the  distance  of  a  mile.  "  This,"  as  Mr. 
Kirby  accurately  observes,  "  is,  as  if  a  man  of  ordi- 
nary stature,  supposing  his  powers  of  voice  increased 
in  the  ratio  of  his  size,  could  be  heard  all  over  the 
world." 


JULY. 


The  clouds  poured  out  water ;  the  skies  sent  out  a  sound ;  thine 
arrows  also  went  abroad. 

The  voice  of  thy  thunder  was  in  the  heaven  ;  the  lightnings  light- 
ened the  world  ;  the  earth  trembled  and  shook. 

PSALMS  Ixxvii.  17,  18. 

Look  upon  the  rainbow  and  praise  him  that  made  it ;  very  beautiful 
it  is  in  the  brightness  thereof. 

It  compasseth  the  heaven  about  with  a  glorious  circle,  and  the  hands 
of  the  Most  High  have  bended  it. 

ECCLESIASTICUS  xliii.  11, 12. 


SUMMER  !  glowing  summer !  This  is  the  month 
of  heat  and  sunshine ;  of  clear  fervid  skies,  dusty 
roads,  and  shrinking  streams .;  when  doors  and 
windows  are  thrown  open : — a  cool  gale  is  the  most 
welcome  of  all  visiters,  and  every  drop  of  rain  is 
worth  its  weight  in  gold !  Such  is  July  commonly  ; 
yet  it  is  sometimes,  on  the  contrary,  a  very  showery 
month,  putting  the  haymaker  to  the  extremity  of  his 
patience,  and  the  farmer  upon  anxious  thoughts  for 
his  ripening  corn.  Generally  speaking,  however,  it 
is  the  heart  of  our  summer.  The  landscape  presents 
an  air  of  warmth,  dryness,  and  maturity:  the  eye 
roves  over  brown  pastures,  corn-fields  already  white 


200  JULY. 

to  harvest,  dark  lines  of  intersecting  hedge-rows, 
and  darker  trees,  lifting  their  heavy  heads  above 
them.  The  foliage  at  this  period  is  rich,  full,  and 
vigorous ;  there  is  a  fine  haze  cast  over  distant  woods 
and  bosky  slopes,  and  every  lofty  and  majestic  tree 
is  filled  with  a  soft  shadowy  twilight,  which  adds 
infinitely  to  their  beauty — a  circumstance  that  has 
never  been  sufficiently  noticed  by  either  poet  or 
painter.  Willows  are  now  beautiful  objects  in  the 
landscape :  they  are  like  rich  masses  of  arborescent 
silver,  especially  if  stirred  by  the  breeze,  their  light 
and  fluent  forms  contrasting  finely  with  the  still  and 
sombre  aspect  of  the  other  trees. 

Now  is  the  general  season  of  haymaking.  Bands 
of  mowers,  in  their  light  dresses  and  broad  straw  hats, 
are  astir  long  before  the  fiery  eye  of  the  sun  glances 
above  the  horizon,  that  they  may  toil  in  the  freshness 
of  the  morning,  and  stretch  themselves  at  noon  in  luxu- 
rious ease  by  trickling  waters,  and  beneath  the  shade 
of  trees.  Till  then,  with  regular  strokes,  and  as  weep- 
ing sound,  the  sweet  and  flowery  grass  falls  before 
them,  revealing,  at  almost  every  step,  nests  of  young 
birds,  mice  in  their  cozy  domes,  and  the  mossy  cells 
of  the  humble-bee  streaming  with  liquid  honey ;  anon, 
troops  of  haymakers  are  abroad,  tossing  the  green 
swaths  to  the  sun.  It  is  one  of  Nature's  festivities, 
endeared  by  a  thousand  pleasant  memories  and  habits 
of  the  olden  days,  and  not  a  soul  can  resist  it. 

There  is  a  sound  of  tinkling  teams  and  wagons 
rolling  along  lanes  and  fields  the  whole  country 
over, — ay,  even  at  midnight, — till  at  length,  the 


JULY.  201 

fragrant  ricks  rise  in  the  farm-yard,  and  the  pale 
smooth-shaven  fields  are  left  in  solitary  beauty. 

They  who  know  little  about  the  country  may 
deem  the  strong  penchant  of  our  poets,  and  of  my- 
self, for  rural  pleasures,  mere  romance  and  poetic 
illusion ;  but  if  poetic  beauty  alone  were  concerned, 
I  must  still  admire  harvest-time  in  the  country.  The 
whole  land  is  then  an  Arcadia  full  of  simple,  health- 
ful, and  rejoicing  spirits.  Overgrown  towns  and 
manufactories  may  have  changed,  for  the  worse,  the 
spirit  and  feelings  of  their  population;  in  them  "  evil 
communications  may  have  corrupted  good  man- 
ners :"  in  the  country  at  large,  evil  times  too  have 
diffused  an  evil  influence ;  the  extremes  of  wealth 
and  poverty  have  grown  wider  between  the  different 
classes  of  society,  and  the  working  population  have 
felt  themselves  cast  off,  as  it  were,  from  the  sym- 
pathies of  their  employers — neglected  and  oppressed. 
The  commons  on  which  their  cottages  stood,  their 
children  played,  their  cow  grazed,  their  few  sheep 
and  numerous  geese  ran,  have  been  enclosed  and 
have  gone  to  swell  high  rent-rolls  ;  while  they  them- 
selves have  lost  the  last  faint  sense  of  the  enjoyment 
of  property — have  become  dispirited,  and,  in  too 
many  instances,  vengeful  and  terrible.  Yet,  take 
them  as  a  whole,  and  there  never  was  a  more  simple- 
minded,  healthful-hearted  race  of  people  than  our 
British  peasantry.  They  have  cast  off,  it  is  true, 
many  of  their  ancestor's  games  and  merry-makings ; 
but  they  have,  in  no  degree  lost  their  capacity  for 
mirth  and  happiness,  did  circumstances  place  mirth 


202  JULY. 

and  happiness  within  their  reach.  Many  of  the  sports 
and  pastimes  of  our  forefathers,  are,  in  the  retro- 
spect, picturesque  and  pleasant — but  attempt  to  prac- 
tise them  at  the  present  day,  and  the  very  villagers 
would  laugh  at  them  as  ridiculous  child's  play,  and 
in  fact  they  are  child's  play.  They  were  the  amuse- 
ments of  a  generation — children  in  intellectual  cul- 
ture, though  of  brawny  growth  in  body  ;  they  were 
the  pastimes  of  beings,  whom,  in  the  race  of  real 
knowledge,  our  very  clowns  have  left  behind.  Nay 
I  question  whether  our  peasantry  could  witness, 
without  an  internal  feeling  of  contempt,  what  were 
at  one  day  the  highest  entertainments  of  the  highest 
classes — at  which  "  lords  and  dukes  and  noble  cap- 
tains" toiled  day  after  day,  and  the  proudest  and 
brightest  dames  sate  witnesses,  not  in  impatience, 
but  in  pleasure.  In  vain  then  do  we  lament  our 
Christmas  sports,  and  the  old  games  of  gentle  and 
simple :  they  are  pleasant  pictures  in  pleasant  as- 
sociations; they  are  highly  to  be  valued  as  relics 
and  remembrances  of  the  olden  time — of  the  good 
olden  time — good  to  the  good  people  who  enjoyed 
them — good  possibly  in  themselves — exceedingly 
good  at  a  distance  ;  but 

Another  race  has  been,  and  other  palms  are  won. 

Knowledge  has  run  to  and  fro  in  the  earth.  It  has 
penetrated  into  the  remotest  hamlet — into  the  ob- 
scurest nook,  not,  indeed,  in  the  degree  which  it 
ought,  for  the  benefit  and  happiness  of  all  parties, 
and  in  which  I  trust  it  yet  will,  but  it  has  penetrated 


JULY.  203 

thither;  and  though  many  a  goodly  superstition, 
many  a  jocund  folly  have  fled  before  it,  I  trust,  and 
I  think  I  know,  that  much  simplicity  of  heart  and 
manner  remains,  and  is  likely  to  remain,  in  what 
may  be  truly  called  the  country ;  and  instead  of 
ignorance  and  laughter,  we  have  more  intelligence, 
industry  stimulated  by  higher  views,  and,  whenever 
there  is  cause  to  display  it,  mirth  and  good-fellow- 
ship enough.  This  is  never  more  conspicuous  than 
in  harvest  time. 

With  the  exception  of  a  casual  song  of  the  lark 
in  a  fresh  morning,  and  the  blackbird  and  thrush  at 
sunset,  or  the  monotonous  wail  of  the  yellowham- 
mer,  the  silence  of  birds  is  now  complete ;  even  the 
lesser  reed-sparrow,  which  may  very  properly  be 
called  the  English  mock-bird,  and  which  kept  up  a 
perpetual  clatter  with  the  notes  of  the  sparrow,  the 
swallow,  the  white-throat,  etc.  in  every  hedge- 
bottom,  day  and  night,  has  now  ceased  its  song  also. 

Boys  will  now  be  seen  in  the  evening  twilight, 
with  match,  gunpowder,  etc.  and  green  boughs  for 
self-defence,  busy  in  storming  the  paper-built  castles 
of  wasps,  the  larvae  of  which  furnish  anglers  with 
plenty  of  excellent  baits.  The  hornet  is  very  un- 
common now  in  the  midland  counties.  It  is  a  diffi- 
cult matter  to  find  a  person  who  has  seen  a  single 
insect,  much  less  a  nest ;  a  fact  certainly  not  to  be 
regretted,  when  we  recollect  that  three  of  these  fiery 
insects  are  said  to  be  capable  of  stinging  a  horse  to 
death ;  or  when  we  read  the  admirable  description 
of  Homer — 


204 


So  burns  the  vengeful  hornet,  soul  all  o'er, 
Repulsed  in  vain,  and  thirsty  still  for  gore  : 
Bold  son  of  air  and  heat,  on  angry  wings 
Untamed,  untired,  he  turns,  attacks,  and  stings. 

But  in  the  southern  counties  plenty  of  them  are  still 
to  be  found,  especially  where  old  woods,  hollow 
trees,  and  thatched  buildings  abound.     In  Surrey, 
within  the  last  two  or  three  years,  I  have   seen 
abundance  of  them.     The  warm  sandy  soil,  the  old 
pollard  trees,  the  commons  overgrown  with  woods, 
and  the  general  prevalence  of  wood,  seem  to  en- 
courage these  formidable  insects.  In  the  hot  summer 
of  1837  I  observed  numerous  nests  in   the  woods 
about  Esher,  Bookham-common,  Cobham,  and  that 
neighbourhood.  Swarms  of  them  visited  our  garden, 
attracted  in  the  first  instance  by  a  large  dahlia,  of  a 
dark-coloured  flower,  called   the  negro-boy, 
crreen  bark  of  this  peculiar  variety  of  dahlia  had 
some  irresistible  charm  for  them.     They  peeled  it 
off  as  the  rabbit  peels  the  bark  of  a  young  tree;  and 
wherever  they  laid  bare  the  root  of  the  stem,  they 
were  succeeded  by  swarms  of  flies  and  wasps  to  suck 
the  juice.     Though  we  destroyed  numbers  of  them, 
nothing  would  deter  them  from  their  attacks  on  the 
dahliartill  ripening  fruits  drew  off  their  attention. 
By  the  side  of  these  noble-looking  insects,  of  a  rich 
orange  hue,  the  wasps  appeared  pale  pigmies  ;  and 
I  observed  that  the  hornets  did  not  hesitate  oc- 
casionally  to  seize  on  the  wasps,  and  carry  them  off. 
It  is  curious  to  watch  these  insects  at  their  nest, 
which  is  generally  in  a  hole  in  a  tree.     At  the 


JULY.  205 

one  always  stands  sentinel,  and  if  you  put  up  the 
point  of  a  whip  or  stick  to  him,  he  will  boldly  stand 
his  ground,  and  attempt  to  seize  on  the  whip  or  stick 
with  his  mandibles.  If  he  finds  himself  much  pressed, 
he  will  then  pop  into  the  hole ;  and  if  you  desire  to 
escape  the  consequences  of  rousing  a  hornet's  nest, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  make  as  speedy  an  exit  as 
possible. 

Spring-flowers  have  given  place  to  a  very  different 
class.  Climbing  plants  mantle  and  festoon  every 
hedge.  The  wild  hop — the  bryony — the  clematis, 
or  traveller's  joy — the  large  white  convolvulus, 
whose  bold  yet  delicate  flowers  will  display  them- 
selves to  a  very  late  period  of  the  year — vetches, 
and  white  and  yellow  ladies'  bed-straw,  invest  every 
bush  with  their  varied  beauty,  and  breathe  on  the 
passers-by  their  faint  summer  sweetness.  The  Cam- 
panula rotundifolia,  the  hare-bell  of  poets  and  the 
blue-bell  of  botanists,  arrests  the  eye  on  every  dry 
bank,  rock,  and  wayside,  with  its  airy  stems  and 
beautiful  cerulean  bells.  There  too  we  behold  wild 
scabiouses,  mallows,  the  woody-nightshade,  wood- 
betony,  and  centaury:  the  red  and  white  striped  con- 
volvulus also  throws  its  flowers  under  your  feet; 
corn-fields  glow  with  whole  armies  of  scarlet  pop- 
pies, cockle,  and  the  rich  azure  plumes  of  the  viper's 
bugloss;  even  thistles,  the  curse  of  Adam,  diffuse  a 
glow  of  beauty  over  waste  and  barren  places.  Some 
species,  particularly  the  musk-thistle,  are  really  noble 
plants,  wearing  their  formidable  arms,  their  silken 
vest,  and  their  gorgeous  crimson  tufts  of  fragrant 
18 


206  JULY. 

flowers  issuing  from  a  coronal  of  interwoven  down 
and  spines,  with  a  grace  which  casts  far  into  the 
shade  many  a  favourite  of  the  garden. 

But  whoever  would  taste  all  the  sweetness  of 
July,  let  him  go  in  pleasant  company,  if  possible, 
into  heaths  and  woods:  it  is  there,  in  her  uncul- 
tured haunts,  that  Summer  now  holds  her  court. 
The  stern  castle,  the  lowly  convent,  the  deer,  and 
the  forester  have  vanished  thence  many  ages ;  yet 
nature  still  casts  round  the  forest-lodge,  the  gnarled 
oak,  and  lonely  mere,  the  same  charms  as  ever. 
The  most  hot  and  sandy  tracks,  which,  we  might 
naturally  imagine,  would  now  be  parched  up,  are 
in  full  glory.  The  Erica  Tetralix,  or  bell-heath,  the 
most  beautiful  of  our  indigenous  species,  is  now  in 
bloom,  and  has  converted  the  brown  bosom  of  the 
waste  into  one  wide  sea  of  crimson :  the  air  is 
charged  with  its  honeyed  odour:  the  dry  elastic 
turf  glows,  not  only  with  its  flowers,  but  with  those 
of  the  wild  thyme,  the  clear  blue  milkwort,  the 
yellow  asphodel,  and  that,  curious  plant  the  sun- 
dew, with  its  drops  of  inexhaustible  liquor  spark- 
ling in  the  fiercest  sun  like  diamonds.  There  wave 
the  cotton-rush,  the  tall  foxglove,  and  the  taller 
golden  mullein :  there  grows  the  classical  grass  of 
Parnassus,  the  elegant  favourite  of  every  poet; 
there  creep  the  various  species  of  heathberries, 
cranberries,  bilberries,  etc.  furnishing  the  poor  with 
a  source  of  profit,  and  the  rich  of  simple  luxury. 
What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  throw  ourselves  down  be- 
neath the  verdant  screen  of  the  beautiful  fern,  or  in 


JULY.  207 

the  shade  of  a  venerable  oak,  in  such  a  scene,  and 
listen  to  the  summer  sound  of  ubees,  grasshoppers, 
and  ten  thousand  other  insects,  mingled  with  the 
more  remote  and  solitary  cry  of  the  peewit  and 
curlew !  Then  to  think  of  the  coach-horse,  urged 
on  his  sultry  stage,  and  the  ploughboy  and  his  team 
plunging  in  the  depths  of  a  burning  fallow — or  of 
our  ancestors,  in  times  of  national  famine,  plucking 
up  the  wild  fern-roots*  for  bread — and  what  an  en- 
hancement of  our  own  luxurious  ease  ! 

But  woods,  the  depths  of  woods,  are  the  most 
delicious  retreats  during  the  fiery  noons  of  July. 
The  great  azure  campanulas,  or  Canterbury  bells, 
are  there  in  bloom ;  and  in  chalk  or  limestone  dis- 
tricts there  are  also  now  to  be  found  those  curious 
plants  the  bee  and  fly  orchis.  The  soul  of  John 
Evelyn  well  might  envy  us  a  wood  lounge  at  this 
period ; 

All  the  cool  freshness  of  the  humid  air ; 

the  walk  by  the  border  of  the  brook  chiming  over 
the  shadow-chequered  pebbles,  the  green  and  breezy 
canopy  above  us,  and  luxurious  thoughts  in  our 
hearts. 

Throughout  the  month,  the  halloo  and  clapper  of 
the  birdboy,  a  classical  being  since  the  days  of 
Giles  Bloomfield,  are  heard  amongst  the  fields  of 

*  It  is  perhaps  not  known  to  every  juvenile  lover  of  nature  that 
a  transverse  section  of  a  fern -root  presents  a  miniature  picture  of 
an  oak-tree. 


208  JULY. 

ripening  corn,  and  towards  the  end  of  it  corn  har- 
vest commences. 


SUMMER  AND  THE  POET. 

POET. 

Oh  !  golden,  golden  Summer, 

What  is  it  thou  hast  done  ? 
Thou  hast  chased  each  vernal  roamer 

With  thy  fiercely  burning  sun. 

Glad  was  the  cuckoo's  hail, — 
Where  may  we  hear  it  now  ? 

Thou  hast  driven  the  nightingale 
From  the  waving  hawthorn  bough. 

Thou  hast  shrunk  the  mighty  river ; 

Thou  hast  made  the  small  brook  flee; 
And  the  light  gales  faintly  quiver 

Tliraugh  the  dark  and  shadowy  tree. 

Spring  woke  her  tribes  to  bloom, 
And  on  the  greensward  dance ; 

Thou  hast  smitten  them  to  the  tomb 
With  thy  consuming  glance. 

And  now  Autumn  cometh  on, 
Singing  'midst  shocks  of  corn, 

Thou  hastenest  to  be  gone, 
As  if  joy  might  not  be  borne. 

SUMMER. 

And  dost  thou  of  me  complain  ? 

Thou,  who  with  dreamy  eyes. 
In  the  forest  moss  hast  lain, 

Praising  my  silvery  skies  ? 


JULY.  209 

Thou,  who  didst  deem  divine 

The  shrill  cicada's  tune, 
When  the  odours  of  the  pine 

Gush'd  through  the  woods  at  noon  ? 

I  have  run  my  fervid  race, 

I  have  wrought  my  task  once  more ; 

I  have  filPd  each  fruitful  place 
With  a  plenty  that  runs  o'er. 

There  is  treasure  in  the  garner, 

There  is  honey  with  the  bee  ; 
And  oh !  thou  thankless  scorner, 

There's  a  parting  boon  for  thee  ! 

Soon  as  in  misty  sadness, 

Sere  Autumn  yields  her  reign, 
Winter  with  stormy  madness 

Shall  chase  thee  from  the  plain. 

Then  shall  these  scenes  elysian 

Bright  in  thy  spirit  burn, 
And  each  summer  thought  and  vision 

Be  thine  till  I  return. 

W.  H. 

FIELD  PATHS  are  at  this  season  particularly  at- 
tractive. I  love  our  real  old  English  foot-paths.  1 
love  those  rustic  and  picturesque  stiles  opening  their 
pleasant  escapes  from  frequented  places  and  dusty 
highways  into  the  solitudes  of  Nature.  It  is  delight- 
ful to  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  on  the  old  village-green ; 
under  the  old  elder-tree  by  some  ancient  cottage,  or 
half  hidden  by  the  overhanging  boughs  of  a  wood. 
I  love  to  see  the  smooth,  dry  track,  winding  away 
in  easy  curves,  along  some  green  slope  to  the  church- 
18* 


210  JULY. 

yard — to  the  forest  grange — or  to  the  embowered 
cottage.  It  is  to  me  an  object  of  certain  inspiration. 
It  seems  to  invite  one  from  noise  and  publicity  into 
the  heart  of  solitude  and  of  rural  delight.  It  beckons 
the  imagination  on  through  green  and  whispering 
corn-fields,  through  the  short  but  verdant  pasture, 
the  flowering  mowing-grass,  the  odorous  and  sunny 
hay-field,  the  festivity  of  harvest ;  from  lonely  farm 
to  farm;  from  village  to  village;  by  clear  and 
mossy  wells;  by  tinkling  brooks  and  deep  wood 
skirted  streams,  to  crofts  where  the  daffodil  is  re- 
joicing in  spring,  or  meadows  where  the  large  blue 
geranium  embellishes  the  summer  wayside;  to 
heaths  with  their  warm  elastic  sward  and  crimson 
bells — the  chithering  of  grasshoppers, — the  fox- 
glove, and  the  old  gnarled  oak ;  in  short,  to  all  the 
solitary  haunts  after  which  the  city-pent  lover  of 
nature  pants  "  as  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water- 
brooks." 

What  is  there  so  truly  English  ?  What  is  so  truly 
linked  with  our  rural  tastes,  our  sweetest  memories, 
and  our  sweetest  poetry,  as  stiles  and  foot-paths? 
Goldsmith,  Thomson,  and  Milton  have  adorned  them 
with  some  of  their  richest  wreaths.  They  have  con- 
secrated them  to  poetry  and  love.  It  is  along  the  foot- 
path in  secluded  fields,  upon  the  stile  in  the  embow- 
ered lane,  where  the  wild  rose  and  the  honeysuckle 
are  lavishing  their  beauty  and  their  fragrance,  that 
we  delight  to  picture  to  ourselves  rural  lovers,  breath- 
ing, in  the  dewy  sweetness  of  summer  evening,  vows 
still  sweeter.  There  it  is  that  the  poet,  seated,  sends 


JULY.  211 

back  his  soul  into  the  freshness  of  his  youth,  amongst 
attachments  since  withered  by  neglect, — rendered 
painful  by  absence,  or  broken  by  death  ;  amongst 
dreams  and  aspirations  which,  even  now  that  they 
pronounce  their  own  fallacy,  are  lovely.  It  is  there 
that  he  gazes  upon  the  gorgeous  sunset — the  evening 
star  following  with  its  silvery  lamp  the  fading  day, 
or  the  moon  showering  her  pale  lustre  through  the 
balmy  night  air — with  a  fancy  that  kindles  and  soars 
into  the  heavens  before  him  ;  there,  that  we  have  all 
felt  the  charm  of  woods  and  green  fields,  and  solitary 
boughs  waving  in  the  golden  sunshine,  or  darkening 
in  the  melancholy  beauty  of  evening  shadows.  Who 
has  not  thought  how  beautiful  was  the  sight  of  a 
village  congregation,  pouring  out  from  their  old  gray 
church  on  a  summer  day,  and  streaming  off  through 
the  quiet  meadows,  in  all  directions,  to  their  homes  ? 
Or  who  that  has  visited  Alpine  scenery,  has  not 
beheld  with  a  poetic  feeling  the  mountaineers  come 
winding  down  out  of  their  romantic  seclusions  on  a 
Sabbath  morning,  pacing  the  solitary  heath-tracks, 
bounding  with  elastic  step  down  the  fern-clad  dells, 
or  along  the  course  of  a  riotous  stream,  as  cheerful, 
as  picturesque,  and  yet  as  solemn  as  the  scenes 
around  them  ? 

Again  I  say,  I  love,  field-paths,  and  stiles  of  all 
species, — ay,  even  the  most  inaccessible  piece  of 
rustic  erection  ever  set  up  in  defiance  of  age,  lazi- 
ness, and  obesity.  How  many  scenes  of  frolic  and 
merry  confusion  have  I  seen  at  a  clumsy  stile! 
What  exclamations,  and  blushes,  and  fine  eventual 


212  JULY. 

vaulting  on  the  part  of  the  ladies  !  and  what  an  op- 
portunity does  it  afford  to  beaux  of  exhibiting  a 
variety  of  gallant  and  delicate  attentions !  I  con- 
sider a  rude  stile  as  any  thing  but  an  impediment 
in  the  course  of  a  rural  courtship. 

Those  good  old  turnstiles  too — can  I  ever  forget 
them  ?  the  hours  I  have  spun  round  upon  them  when 
a  boy!  or  those  in  which  I  have  almost  laughed 
myself  to  death  at  the  remembrance  of  my  village 
pedagogue's  disaster  !  Methinks  I  see  him  now  ! — 
the  time  a  sultry  day, — the  domine  a  goodly  person 
of  some  eighteen  or  twenty  stone, — the  scene  a  foot- 
path sentinelled  with  turnstiles,  one  of  which  held  him 
fast  as  in  amazement  at  his  bulk.  Never  shall  I  forget 
his  efforts  and  agonies  to  extricate  himself;  nor  his 
lion-like  roars  which  brought  some  labourers  to  his 
assistance,  who,  when  they  had  recovered  from  their 
convulsions  of  laughter,  knocked  off  the  top  of  the 
turnstile  and  let  him  go.  It  is  long  since  I  saw  a 
stile  of  this  construction,  and  I  suspect  the  Falstaffs 
have  cried  them  down.  But  without  a  jest,  stiles 
and  foot-paths  are  vanishing  every  where.  There 
is  nothing  upon  which  the  advance  of  wealth  and 
population  has  made  so  serious  an  inroad.  As  land 
has  increased  in  value,  wastes  and  heaths  have  been 
parcelled  out  and  inclosed,  but  seldom  have  foot- 
paths been  left.  The  poet  and  the  naturalist,  who 
before  had,  perhaps,  the  greatest  real  property  in 
them,  have  had  no  allotment.  They  have  been 
totally  driven  out  of  the  promised  land.  Goldsmith 
complained,  in  his  day,  that 


JULY.  213 

The  man  of  wealth  and  pride 
Takes  up  a  space  that  many  poor  supplied ; 
Space  for  his  lake,  his  park's  extended  bounds, 
Space  for  his  horses,  equipage,  and  hounds ; 
The  robe  that  wraps  his  limbs  in  silken  sloth, 
Has  robb'd  the  neighbouring  fields  of  half  their  growth : 
His  seat,  where  solitary  sports  are  seen, 
Indignant  spurns  the  cottage  from  the  green. 

And  it  is  but  too  true  that  the  pressure  of  con- 
tiguous pride  has  driven  farther,  from  that  day  to 
this,  the  public  from  the  rich  man's  lands.  "  They 
make  a  solitude  and  call  it  peace."  Even  the  quiet 
and  picturesque  foot-path  that  led  across  his  fields,  or 
stole  along  his  wood-side,  giving  to  the  poor  man 
with  his  burden  a  cooler  and  nearer  cut  to  the 
village,  is  become  a  nuisance.  One  would  have 
thought  that  the  rustic  labourer,  with  his  scythe  on 
his  shoulder,  or  his  bill-hook  and  hedging-mittens  in 
his  hand, — the  cottage  dame  in  her  black  bonnet  and 
scarlet  cloak,  the  neat  village  maiden  in  the  sweet- 
ness of  health  and  simplicity,  or  the  boy  strolling 
along  full  of  life  and  curiosity, — might  have  had  suf- 
ficient interest  in  themselves,  for  a  cultivated  taste 
not  merely  to  tolerate,  but  to  welcome — passing  oc- 
casionally at  a  distance  across  the  park  or  wood,  as 
objects  agreeably  enlivening  the  stately  solitude  of 
the  hall.  But  they  have  not;  and  what  is  more, 
those  are  commonly  the  most  jealous  of  pedestrian 
trespassers,  who  seldom  visit  their  own  estates,  but 
permit  the  seasons  to  scatter  their  charms  around 
their  villas  and  rural  possessions  without  the  heart 


214  JULY. 

to  enjoy,  or  even  the  presence  to  behold  them.  How 
often  have  I  myself  been  arrested  in  some  long-fre- 
quented dale — in  some  spot  endeared  by  its  own 
beauties  and  the  fascinations  of  memory,  by  a  board 
exhibiting  in  giant  characters,  "  STOPPED  BY  AN 
ORDER  OF  SESSIONS,"  and  denouncing  the  terrors  of 
the  law  upon  trespassers  !  This  is  a  little  too  much. 
I  would  not  be  querulous  for  the  poor  against  the 
rich.  I  would  not  teach  them  to  look  with  an  envious 
and  covetous  eye  upon  their  villas,  lawns,  cattle,  and 
equipage ;  but  when  the  path  of  immemorial  usage 
is  closed, — when  the  little  streak,  almost  as  fine  as 
a  mathematical  line,  along  the  wealthy  man's  ample 
field  is  grudgingly  erased,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel 
indignation  at  the  pitiful  monopoly.  Is  there  no  vil- 
lage champion  to  be  found,  bold  enough  to  put  in 
his  protest  against  these  encroachments, — to  assert 
the  public  right  1 — for  a  right  it  is  as  authentic  as 
that  by  which  the  land  itself  is  held,  and  as  clearly 
acknowledged  by  the  laws.  Is  there  no  local 
"  Hampden  with  dauntless  breast"  to  "  withstand 
the  petty  tyrants  of  the  fields,"  and  to  save  our  good 
old  foot-paths  ?  If  not,  we  shall  in  a  few  years  be 
doomed  to  the  highways  and  the  hedges ;  to  look, 
like  Dives,  from  a  sultry  region  of  turnpikes,  into  a 
pleasant  one  of  verdure  and  foliage  which  we  may 
not  approach.  Already  the  stranger,  if  he  lose  his 
way,  is  in  jeopardy  of  falling  into  the  horrid  fangs 
of  a  steel-trap  ;  the  botanist  enters  a  wood  to  gather 
a  flower,  and  is  shot  with  a  spring-gun ;  death  haunts 


JULY.  215 

our  dells  and  copses,  and  the  poet  complains,  in  re- 
gretful notes,  that  he 

Wanders  away  to  the  field  and  glen, 
Far  as  he  may  for  the  gentlemen. 

I  am  not  so  much  of  a  poet,  and  so  little  of  a 
political  economist,  as  to  lament  over  the  progress 
of  population.  It  is  true  that  I  see,  with  a  poetical 
regret,  green  fields  and  fresh  beautiful  tracts  swal- 
lowed up  in  cities ;  but  my  joy  in  the  increase  of 
human  life  and  happiness,  far  outbalances  that 
imaginative  pain.  But  it  is  when  I  see  unnecessary 
and  arbitrary  encroachments  upon  the  rural  pri- 
vileges of  the  public,  that  I  grieve.  Exactly  in  the 
same  proportion  as  our  population  and  commercial 
habits  gain  upon  us,  do  we  need  all  possible  oppor- 
tunities to  keep  alive  in  us  the  spirit  of  Nature. 

The  world  is  too  much  with  us  ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers ; 
Little  there  is  in  Nature  that  is  ours. 

We  give  ourselves  up  to  the  artificial  habits  and 
objects  of  ambition,  till  we  endanger  the  higher  and 
better  feelings  and  capacities  of  our  being ;  and  it  is 
alone  to  the  united  influence  of  religion,  literature, 
and  nature,  that  we  must  look  for  the  preservation 
of  our  moral  nobility.  Whenever,  therefore,  I 
behold  one  of  our  old  field-paths  closed,  I  regard  it 
as  another  link  in  the  chain  which  Mammon  is 
winding  around  us, — another  avenue  cut  off  by 


216  JULY. 


which  we  might  fly  to  the  lofty  sanctuary  of  Nature, 
for  power  to  withstand  him. 


July  is  named  after  Julius  Caesar,  one  of  whose 
best  deeds  was  to  reform  the  Calendar.  The  Saxons 
called  it  Heu-monalh,  or  hay-month ;  and  Lida- 
aftera,  or  second  month  after  the  sun's  descent. 

About  the  middle  of  the  month,  the  shoals  of  that 
migratory  fish,  the  pilchard,  begin  to  appear  off  the 
coast  of  Cornwall.  The  fishermen,  to  whom,  and 
indeed  to  the  inhabitants  generally,  the  plentiful 
arrival  of  this  fish  is  most  important,  keep  a  sharp 
look  out  from  the  tops  of  the  hills  on  the  coast,  and 
can  discern  their  approach  at  a  great  distance  by 
the  colour  of  the  waves  where  they  swim. — Bees 
begin  to  kill  and  expel  drones ;  and  flying  ants  quit 
their  nests.  Hens  moult  or  lose  their  feathers.  The 
smaller  birds  do  not  moult  so  early,  but  all  renew 
their  plumage  before  winter,  when  they  are  in  their 
finest  and  warmest  clothing.  Young  partridges  are 
found  among  the  corn  at  this  time.  Flax  and  hemp 
are  pulled  this  month. 

RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Hay-harvest  is  now  general,  and  fills  the  whole 
country  with  animation.  Honest  Tusser,  in  his 
"  Five  hundreth  Poynts  of  Good  Husbandrie,"  gives 
the  following  pithy  exhortation  to  the  farmer  in  his 
hay-making  month: — 


JULY.  217 

Go  muster  thy  servants,  be  captaine  thyselfe, 
Providing  them  weapons  and  other  like  pelfe  ; 
Get  bottles  and  wallets,  keepe  fielde  in  the  heat, 
The  fear  is  as  much  as  the  danger  is  great. 

With  tossing,  and  raking,  and  setting  on  cox, 
Grasse  latelie  in  swathes  is  now  haie  for  an  oxe ; 
That  done,  goe  to  cart  it,  and  have  it  awaie, 
The  battell  is  fought,  ye  have  gotten  the  daie. 

Cattle  in  the  fields  require  attention  to  give  them 
shade  and  water.  Dairy  cares  continue.  Turnips 
and  potatoes  require  hoeing :  in  the  midland  counties 
late  turnips  are  sown.  In  the  north  of  England, 
especially  Durham  and  Northumberland,  where  the 
Bondage  System  exists,*  you  now  see  bands  of  the 
Bondagers,  or  young  women  engaged  under  that 
peculiar  system  to  do  farm-work,  of  about  a  dozen 
each,  with  a  man  at  their  head,  busily  employed  in 
hoeing  turnips  at  this  season.  Wherever  you  go, 
these  bands  of  young  female  labourers  strike  your 
eye  in  the  fields  of  turnips,  which,  under  the  beautiful 
drill  system  of  the  north,  are  like  so  many  gardens 
for  neatness  ;  or  you  see  them  seated  in  a  group  at 
their  simple  dinner  of  girdle-cake  and  milk,  cheerful 
as  the  air  and  the  sunshine  around  them.  Field- 
peas  are  gathered  for  market.  Hops  and  all  kinds 
of  trees  may  be  pruned,  the  heat  speedily  drying 
their  wounds  and  preventing  their  bleeding.  Those 
who  have  finished  these  operations,  take  the  oppor- 

*  See  "  The  Rural  Life  of  England,"  vol.  i.  p.  165,— The  Bondage 
System  of  the  North  of  England. 
10 


218  JULY. 

tunity  to  get  stone,  mend  their  roads,  gates,  etc.  and 
thatch  their  ricks.  The  corn-crops  require  constant 
watching  by  the  birdboy,  to  defend  them  from  hosts 
of  depredators.  Roses  and  elder-flowers  find  em- 
ployment for  the  still ;  although  our  country  ladies 
do  not  indulge  themselves  in  the  amusements  of  the 
still-room,  with  the  gusto  of  their  grandmothers ; 
their  cordials  of  "  sovrain  virtue"  are  almost  for- 
gotten ;  the  present  generation  has  lost  its  faith  in 
five-leaved-grass  water ;  and  as  for  1'Esprit  des 
Millefleurs,  it  is  better  from  Delcroix  a  Paris.  Pep- 
permint is  ready,  too,  for  the  still ; — the  camomile 
harvest,  in  Kent  and  Derbyshire,  employs  many 
children.  Heath-berries  of  various  kinds,  as  bilber- 
ries, cranberries,  etc.  and  mushrooms  are  gathered 
by  the  poor  and  carried  for  sale  into  the  towns. 
In  the  garden,  fruit-trees  may  be  pruned,  and 
wall-trees  nailed.  Much  attention  is  required  in 
watering,  supporting  plants,  weeding,  mowing  grass- 
plots,  etc. 

ANGLING. 

Bream  and  tench  spawn.  Grayling  is  "  very 
pleasant  and  jolly"  in  these  hot  months,  leaping 
twenty  times  at  a  fly,  and  showing  much  sport. 
His  haunts,  habits,  and  baits,  with  the  exception  that 
he  is  not  very  fond  of  a  minnow,  are  pretty  much 
like  those  of  the  trout ;  but  he  is  bolder,  and  there- 
fore requires  less  patience  in  the  angler  than  care 
not  to  lose  him,  through  the  tenderness  of  his  mouth. 


JULY.  219 

The  fly  used  cannot  be  too  small  for  him.  This 
fish  abounds  in  our  northern  rivers,  especially  the 
Humber ;  and  the  Severn  and  Wye  contain  many 
fine  ones.  Many  trouts  are  taken  in  hot  weather 
by  tickling  them  as  they  lie  under  the  hollow  banks 
of  small  streams ;  and  pikes  as  they  bask  at  the 
surface  in  the  sunshine  are  caught  by  a  noose  of 
fine  wire  or  horse-hair,  at  the  end  of  a  rod ; 
practices  which,  although  not  reckoned  very  sports- 
manlike, have  perhaps  quite  as  much  sport  in  them 
as  if  they  were.  The  chub  now  will  take  any  fly, 
or  cherries,  or  beetles  with  the  legs  and  wings  cut 
off;  but  above  all,  a  grasshopper  on  the  surface,  or 
at  the  bottom  a  young  humble-bee,  such  as  is  found 
in  the  mowing  grass ;  but  he  is  a  fearful  fish,  and 
requires  stillness  and  secrecy  in  the  angler.  The 
carp  is  found  in  the  deepest  holes  of  ponds  or  rivers, 
beneath  banks,  roots  of  trees,  etc.  and  is  taken  early 
or  late  in  the  day  with  worm,  paste,  grub,  green 
peas,  cherries,  or  a  grasshopper  at  the  bottom. 
The  salmon  now  makes  glorious  fishing  with  the  fly 
in  our  northern  streams.  This  noble  fish  is  taken  in 
a  multitude  of  ways,  and  is  a  source  of  great  profit 
to  the  possessors  of  streams  which  it  ascends.  It  is 
taken  in  nets,  in  traps  at  the  weirs,  by  the  line,  and  the 
spear.  In  some  parts  of  Scotland  they  pursue  and 
spear  it  by  torchlight.  In  Solway  Frith  it  is  speared 
in  the  pools  left  by  the  receding  tide,  by  men  on 
horseback.  As  it  spawns  in  December,  and  is  said 
not  to  recover  itself  in  less  than  four  months,  con- 
sequently it  is  not  in  good  condition  till  April,  after 


220  JULY. 

which  period  it  should  become  better  and  better  :  it 
however  often  comes  up  from  the  sea  very  poor, 
and  requires  some  abode  in  the  fresh  stream  to 
fatten. 

Evening  is  the  best  time  of  the  day  this  month 
for  fly-fishing.  Flies :  all  the  flies  taken  in  June ; 
also  the  orange-fly ;  a  little  dun  white ;  a  wasp-fly ; 
a  black  hackle ;  the  shell-fly ;  a  black  blue  dun ; 
black  or  red  palmer- worms  ;  cockchafers. 

MIGRATION  OF  BIRDS. 

None  takes  place  this  month. 

CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  II.  Order  1.     Jasminum  fruticans,  Yellow  Jasmine.  9. 

Jasminum  humile,  Dwarf  Jasmine. 

Catalpa  syringifolia,  Common  Catalpa.  8. 

Veronica  Siberica,  cum  mult,  aliis,  Siberian  Speedwell,  with  many 

others.  8. 
Monarda  didyma,  cum  aliis.    Scarlet  Monarda,  with  others.  8. 

III.  1.    Iris  orchroleuca,  Pale  Yellow  Iris. 
Iris  halophylla,  Long-leaved  Iris. 

IV.  1.     Scabiosa    Ukranica,    cum    aliis.      Ukraine    Scabious,    with 
others.  8. 

Plantago  maxima,  cum  aliis.    Broad-leaved  Plantain,  with  others. 
Sanguisorba  media,  Short-spiked  Burnet  Saxifrage.  8. 
Sanguisorba  Canadensis,  Canadian  Burnet.  8. 

V.  1.    Lysimachia  Ephemerum,  Willow-leaved  Loose-strife.  9. 
Lysimachia    vulgare,     cum    aliis.      Aaron's-rod    Loose-strife,    with 

others.  9. 

Phlox  undulata,  Wave-leaved  Lychnidea.  9. 
Phlox  Carolina,  Carolina,  Lychnidea.  8. 
Phlox  maculata,  Spotted  Lychnidea.  8. 
Phlox  suffruticosa,  Shrubby  Lychnidea.  8. 
Phlox  intermedia,  Intermediate  Lychnidea. 


JULY.  221 

Campanula  grandiflora,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Large-flowered  Campanula, 

with  many  others.  8. 
Phyteuma  spicatum,  Horn-Rampion.  8. 
Phyteuma  hemisphericum,  Small  Horn-Rampion. 
Physalis  Alkakengi,  Winter  Cherry.  9. 
Physalis  Pennsylvanica,  Pennsylvanian  Winter  Cherry.  9. 
Lobelia  cardinalis,  Scarlet  Cardinal-Flower.  10. 
Nolana  prostrata,  Trailing  Nolana.  8. 
Impatiens  Noli-me-tangere,  Touch-me-not.  8. 
Datura  Tatula,  Purple  Stramonium.  9. 
Viola  cuculata,  Hollow-leaved  Violet.  8. 
Viola  mirabilis,  Broad-leaved  Violet.  8. 
Spigelia  Marilandica,  Indian  Pink.  8. 
V.  1.    Anchusa  Italica,  Italian  Buglos.  10. 
Nicotiana  rustica,  Common  Tobacco.  6. 
Celastus  bullatus,  Scarlet  Staff-tree. 
V.  2.     Asclepias  Syriaca,  Syrian  Swallow-wort.  8. 
Asclepias  incarnata,  Flesh-coloured  Swallow-wort.  8. 
Asclepias  tuberosa,  Orange  Apocynum.  9. 
Eryngium  planum,  Flat-leaved  Eringo.  9. 
Eryngium  amethystinum,  Amethystine  Eringo.  8. 
Eryngium  campestre,  Field  Eringo.  8. 
Angelica  Archangelica,  Garden  Angelica.  9. 
Gentiana  asclepiadea,  Gentian  Swallow-wort.  8. 
V.  3.     Rus  typhinum,  Virginian  Sumach.  8. 
Rus  elegans,  cam  aliis.    Carolina  Sumach,  with  others. 
Vibernum  laBvigatum,  cum  aliis.     Cassiobury  Bush,  with  others.  8. 

V.  5.     Statice  speciosa,  Plantain-leaved  Thrift.  8. 
Statice  Tartarica,  Tartarian  Thrift.  8. 

Statice  flexuosa,  Zigzag  Thrift.  8. 
Linum  flavum,  Yellow  Flax.  8. 

VI.  1.  Frankenia  hirsuta,  Hirsute  Sea-heath. 
Lilium  Canadense,  Canadian  Martagon.  8. 
Lilium  Philadelphicum,  Philadelphian  Martagon.  8. 
Lilium  Catesbii,  Catesby's  Martagon.  8. 

Yucca  gloriosa,  Superb  Adam's  Needle.  8. 
Yucca  h'limentosa,  Thready  Adam's  Needle.  8. 
Amaryllis  belladonna,  Belladonna  Lily.  8. 
VIII.  1.  Erica  ciliaris,  Ciliated  Heath.  9. 
(Enothera  fruticosa,  Shrubby  CEnothera.  8. 
(Enothera  grandiflora,  Large-flowered  CEnothera.  8. 

19* 


222  JULY. 

VIII.   3.      Polygonum    orientale,  cum    aliis.      Red   Persicary,  with 

others.  10. 

X.  1.     Sophora  Japonica,  Japan  Sophora. 
Sophora  alopecuroidea,  Fox-tail  Sophora.  8. 
Andromeda  speciosa,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Large -flowered   Andromeda, 

with  many  others. 

Cassia  Marilandica,  Maryland  Cassia.  10. 
Rhododendron  Caucasia,  Caucasian  Rhododendron. 
X.  2.     Hydrangea  arborea,  cum  aliis.    Tree  Hydrangea,  with  others. 
Dianthus  Carthusianum,  Carthusian  Pink.  8. 
Dianthus  Glaucus,  Glaucous  Pink. 
Dianthus  caryophylli,  Clove  Pink. 
Dianthus  Monspeliensis,  Montpellier  Pink. 
Dianthus  prolifer.  Proliferous  Pink.  8. 
Dianthus  superbus,  Superb  Male  Pink.  9. 
X.  3.     Silene  longiflora,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Long-flowered   Catch-fly. 

with  many  others.  9. 
Arenaria  saxatilis,  Rock  Sandwort. 
Sedum  majus,  cum  aliis.    Great  Orpine,  with  others. 

X.  4.    Lychnis  laeta,  Small  Lychnis. 
Agrostemma  Flos-Jovis,  Umbelled  Rose-campion. 
Agrostemma  Cceli-rosa,  Smooth  leaved  Rose-campion. 

XI.  2.     Agrimony  repens,  Creeping  Agrimony.  9. 

XII.  5.     Rosa  sulphurea,  Double  Yellow  Rose. 
Rosa  moschata,  Single  Musk-rose.  9. 

Spiraea  lobata,  Lobe-leaved  Spirea.  8. 

Potentilla  Norvegica,  cum  aliis.    Norwegian  Cinquefoil,  with  others.  9. 

Geum  Virginica,  Virginian  Avens.  8. 

Dryas  octopetala,  Mountain  Dryas.  8. 

XIII.  1.     Cistus  Monspeliensis,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Montpellier  Cistus, 
with  many  others. 

XIII.  3.      Aconitum  Lycoctonum,    cum   aliis.     Yellow  Wolfsbane, 

with  others.  8. 

Delphinium  urceolatum,  Hollow-leaved  Larkspur.  8. 
XIII.  4.     Eschschohzia  Californica,  Californian  Eschschollzia.  10. 

XIII.  7.    Clematis  crispa,  Curled  Clematis.  8. 
Clematis  orientalis,  Eastern  Clematis.  10. 
Clematis  flammula,  Sweet-scented  Clematis.  10. 
Magnolia  pumila,  Dwarf  Magnolia.  9. 

XIV.  1.    Dracocephalon  Virginica,  cum  aliis.     Virginian   Dragon's- 
head,  with  others.  9. 

Lavendula  spica,  Lavender.  9. 


JULY.  223 

Lavendula  orientalis,  White-flowered  Lavender. 

XIV.  2.    Bignonia  radicans,  Great  Trumpet-flower.  8. 

Bignonia  v.  minor,  Small  Trumpet-flower. 

Eccremocarpus  scaber,  Rough  Eccremocarpus.  8. 

Eccremocarpus  longiflorus,  Long-flowered  Eccremocarpus.  8. 

Vitex  Agnus-Castus,  Chaste  Tree.  9. 

Vitex  v.  latifdia,  Broad-leaved  Chaste  Tree. 

Mimulus  ringens,  Oblong-leaved  Monkey  Flower.  8. 

Acanthus  mollis,  cum  aliis.     Smooth  Acanthus,  with  others.  9. 

Digitalis  leucophora,  Broad-lipped  Foxglove.  10. 

XVI.  7.    Lavatera  Thuringiaca,  cum  aliis.     Large-flowered  Lavatera, 
with  others.  9. 

Hybiscus  palustris,  Marsh  Ilybiscus.  8. 
Hybiscus  trionium,  Bladder  Ketmia. 
Malva  limensis,  Blue-flowered  Mallow. 

XVII.  4.     Spartium  junceum,  Spanish  Broom.  9. 
Spartium  v.Jlore  plena,  Double  Spanish  Broom. 

Cytisus  argenteus,  cum  aliis.     Silvery  Cytisus,  with  others.  7. 

Robinia  glutinosa,  Glutinous  Acacia. 

Lathyrus  tuberosus,  cum  aliis.     Tuberous  Lathyrus,  with  others.  8. 

Vicia  pisiformis,  Pale-flowered  Vetch.  8. 

Vicia  Biennis,  Biennial  Vetch.  8. 

Coronilla  varia,  Purple  CoronilJa.  10. 

Galega  montana,  Mountain  Goat's-rue. 

Hedysarum  Canadiense,  Canadian  Saintfoin.  9. 

Lupinus  luteus,  Yellow  Lupine.  8. 

Lupinus  hirsutus,  cum  aliis.    Large  Blue  Lupine,  with  others. 

Lotus  tetragonolobus,  Red-winged  Pea.  8. 

Lotus  var.  Yellow-winged  Pea. 

Astragalus  campestris,  Field  Milk- Vetch. 

XVII.  4.    Astragalus  Christianus,  Great  Yellow  Milk- Vetch. 
Anthyllis  tetraphylla,  Four-leaved  Kidney-Vetch. 

XVIII.  4.     Hypericum  hircinum,  cum  aliis.     Foetid,  St.  John's-wort, 
with  others.  8. 

XIX.  1.     Sonchus  Sibericus,  Siberian  Sow-Thistle.  8. 

Hieracium  Pyrenaicum,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Heart-leaved  Hawkweed, 

with  many  others.  8. 
Catananche  coarulea,  Blue  Catananche. 
Carduus  canus,  cum  aliis.     Hoary  Thistle,  with  others.  8. 
Cnicus  ferox,  cum  aliis.     Prickly  Cnicus,  with  others.  8. 
XIX.  2.  Senecio  coriaceus,  Thick-leaved  Groundsel.  8. 
Senecio  abrotanifolia,  Southernwood-leaved  Groundsel.  8. 


224  JULY. 

Dahlia   superflua,    cum    mult.    var.      Purple    Dahlia,    with    many 

varieties.  11. 

Aster  aestivus,  Labrador  Aster.  8. 
Aster  Chinensis,  cum  aliis,  et  mult.  var.     China  Aster,  with  others, 

and  many  varieties. 
Sol  id  ago  Mexicana,  cum    mult,   aliis.    Mexican   Golden   Rod,  with 

many  others.  8. 

Tagetes  patula,  French  Marygold.  10. 
Tagetes  crecta,  African  Marygold.  10. 
Xeranthemum  annuum,  White  Xeranthemum.  8. 
Xeranthemum  var.  Double-purple  Xeranthemum. 
Chrysanthemum  coronaria,  White  quilled  Chrysanthemum.  9. 
Chrysanthemum  tricolor,  Yellow  Chrysanthemum. 
Erigeron  purpureum,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Purple  Erigeron,  with  many 

others.  8. 

Cineraria  gigantea,  Gigantic  Cineraria.  8. 
Bellis  Lusitanica,  Portugal  Daisy. 
XIX.  3.    Rudbeckia  purpurea,  Purple  Rudbeckia.  10. 
Coreopsis  verticillata,  Whorled  Coreopsis.  10. 
Centaurea  centaureum,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Great  Centaury,  with  many 

others.  8. 
XIX.  4.      Silphium   scabrium,  cum    aliis.      Rough    Silphium,   with 

others.  10. 

Echinops  Retio,  Small  Globe-Thistle.  9. 
Echinops  sphxrocephalus,  Great  Globe-Thistle.  8. 
XIX.  5.    Amaranthus  caudatus,  Love-lies-bleeding.  8. 
Amaranthus  hypochondriacus,  Prince's  feather.  8. 
Amaranthus  flavus,  Yellow  Amaranth.  8. 

XXII.  6.     Smilax  lanceolata,  cum  mult,  aliis.     Spear-leaved  Bind- 
weed, with  many  others. 
XXII.  10.    Datisca  cannabina,  Bastard  Hemp.  9. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  II.  Order  1.  Circaea  Alpina,  Mountain  Enchanter's  Night- 
shade. Locality,  Stony  mountain  places.  Duration,  8. 

Veronica  Anagallis,  cum  mult,  aliis.  Water  Speedwell,  with  many 
others.  Watery  places. 

II.  1.  Utricularia,  intermedia,  Intermediate  Bladderwort.  In  ditches, 
Ireland  and  Scotland. 

Utricularia  minor,  Lesser  Bladderwort.     In  ditches  and  bogs. 

Lycopus  Europaeus,  Common  Gipsy  wort.     Banks  of  rivers.  8. 


JULY.  225 

Salvia  pratensis,  Meadow  Clary.    Dry  Meadows. 

III.  1.     Iris  Pseudacorus,  Yellow  Water  Iris.     Pools  and  rivers. 
Scirpus  caespitosus,  Scaly-stalked  Club- Rush.     Barren  heaths. 
Scirpus  lacustris,  Bull-Rush.     Rivers  and  ponds.  8. 

Scirpus  maritimus,  Saltmarsh  Club-Rush.     Salt  marshes.  8. 

Nardus  stricta,  Common  Mat-Grass.     Heaths. 

Ill  2.     Arundo  Phragmites,  Common  Reed.    Ditches  and  marshes. 

Arundo  arenaria,  Sea-Reed.     Sandy  sea-coasts. 

Lolium  temulentum,  Bearded  Darnel.     Corn-fields. 

IV.  1.    Dipsacus  fullonum,  Fuller's  Teazle.    Hedges  and  ditches. 
Dipsacus  sylvestris,  Wild  Teazle.    Hedges  and  banks  of  rivers. 
Scabiosa  arvensis,  Field  Scabious.     Corn-fields. 

Galium  verum,  Yellow  Bed-Straw.    Hedges  and  hilly  places.  8. 
Galium  Mollago,  Great  Hedge  Bed-Straw.    Hedges  and  woods.  8. 
Galium  Boreale,  Cross-leaved  Bed-Straw.     North  of  England  and 

Scotland.  8. 
Alchemilla  Alpina,  Alpine  Ladies'  Mantle.    Alpine  rocks. 

IV.  3.      Potamogeton  natans,  cum  aliis.     Broad-leaved  Pond-weed, 
with  others.    Ditches  and  pools.  8. 

V.  1.    Menyanthes  nymphseoides,  Fringed  Buck-Bean.     Ponds  and 

rivers,  rare.  8. 

Lysimachia  vulgaris,  Great  Yellow  Loose-strife.    Moist,  shady  places. 

Lysimachia  thyrsiflora,  Tufted  Loose-strife.     Watery  places,  Scot- 
land. 8. 

Angallis  coerulea,  Blue  Pimpernel.    Corn-fields,  rare. 

Angallis  tenella,  Bog  Pimpernel.     Spongy  bogs.  8. 

Azalea  procumbens,  Trailing  Azalea.    Highlands  of  Scotland. 

Convolvulus  sepium,  Great  Bindweed.    Moist  hedges.  8. 

Campanula  rotundifolia,  cum  aliis.    Round-leaved  Bell-Flower,  with 
others.    Fields  and  road-sides.  8. 

Lobelia  Dortmanna,  Water  Lobelia.    Highland  lakes.  8. 

Impatiens   Noli-me-tangere,   Touch-me-not.      Balsam.      Wet,  shady 
places.  8. 

Verbascum  Thapsus,  Great  Mullein.    Waste  ground.  8. 

Verbascum  nigrum,  Black  Mullein.     Road-sides  and  banks.  8. 

Verbascum  Blattaria,  Moth  Mullein.     Banks  and  way-sides,  rare. 

Hyoscyamus  niger,  Common  Henbane.     Waste  grounds. 

Erythraa  Centauriurn,  Common  Centaury.     Gravelly  pastures.  8. 

Erythraea  latifolia,  Broad-leaved  Tufted  Centaury.    Sea-shore,  near 

Liverpool. 
Lonicera  Xylosteum,  Upright  Fly  Honeysuckle.    Rocky  places. 


226  JULY. 

V.  2.  Herniara  glabra,  Smooth  Rupturewort.  )  „ 

Herniaria  hirsuta,  Hairy  Rupturewort.  \  San<*  PlaC6S'  Dev'  8' 

Salsola  Kali,  Prickly  Saltwort.     Sandy  sea-shore.  8. 

Gentiana  campestris,  Field  Gentian.     Elevated  Pastures.  10. 

Eryngium  maritimum,  Sea  Holly,  or  Eringo.     Sandy  sea-coast.  8. 

V.  2.    Eryngium  campestre,  Field  Eringo.    Waste  ground,  near  the 

sea.  8. 

Torillis  Anthriscus,  Upright  Hedge-Parsley.     Hedges  and  fields. 
Sjum  latifolium,  Broad-leaved  Water-Parsnip.    Ditches  and  fens.  8. 
Slum  angustifolium,  Narrow-leaved    Water-Parsnip.      Ditches    and 

pools.  8. 

Sium  nodiflorum,  Procumbent  Water-Parsnip.   Ditches  and  streams.  8. 
(Enanthe  tistulosa,  Common  Water-Dropwort.     Ditches  and  ponds.  8. 
(Enanthe  pimpinelloides,  Parsley  Water-Dropwort.    Salt-marshes. 
(Enanthe  crocrata,  Hemlock  Water-Dropwort.  >  ™.  , 

Angelica  sylvestris,  Wild  Angelica.  $ 

Ligusticum  Scoticum,  Scottish  Lovage.    Coast  of  Scotland.  8. 
Bupleurum  rotundifolium,  Common  Hare's-Ear.    Chalky  corn-fields. 
Selinum  palustre,  Marsh  Milk-Parsley.     Marshes  and  boggy  mea- 

dows. 

Pastinaca  sativa,  Common  Wild  Parsnip.     Borders  of  fields.  8. 
Heracleum  Sphondylium,    Common    Cow-Parsnip.     Meadows    and 

pastures. 

V.  3.    Tamarix  Gallica,  French  Tamarisk,  Cliffs  on  the  south  coast. 
V.  5.     Statice  Armeria,  Common  Thrift.     Sea-shore.  8. 
Stalice  Limonium,  Common  Sea  Lavender.    Muddy  sea-shore.  8. 
Linum  usitatissimum,  Common  Flax.     Cultivated  fields. 
V.  6.     Drosera  rotundifolia,  Round-leaved  Sundew. 


,_     .  _ 

Drosera  longifolia,  Long-leaved  Sundew. 

VI.  1.    Ailium  oleraceum,  Streaked  Field  Garlic.    Borders  of  fields. 
Allium  vineale,  Crow  Garlic.    Meadows  and  pastures. 
Frankenia  laevis,  Smooth  Sea  Heath.     Muddy  salt-marshes. 
Peplis  Portula,  Water  Purslane.     Watery  places.  8. 
VI.  3.     Rumex  acutus,  Sharp-leaved  Dock.    Road-sides.  8. 
Rumex  obtusifolius,  Broad-leaved  Dock.    Meadows  and  pastures.  8. 
Rumex  Hydrolapathum,  Great  Water  Dock.     Ditches  and  rivers.  9. 
VI.  4.      Alisma    Plantago,    Greater    Water    Plantain.      Ponds    and 

ditches.  8. 
VIII.  1.     Epilobiura   hirsutum,  Great  Hairy  Willow-Herb.     Moist, 

shady  places.  8. 

Epilobium  montanum,  Smooth-leaved  Willow-Herb.    Stony  places.  9. 
Epilobium  tetragonura,  Square-stalked  Willow-Herb.    Ditches.  9. 


j  '  V  Pastures  and  fields.  10. 


JULY.  227 

Chlora  perfoliata,   Perfoliate   Yellow-wort.      In  chalky  and    sandy 

places.  8. 

Erica  Tetralix,  Cross-leaved  Heath.    Heathy  bogs.  8. 
Erica  cinerea,  Fine-leaved  Heath.    Dry  Heaths.  8. 
Erica  vagans,  Cornish  Heath.    Heaths  in  Cornwall.  8. 
VIII.  2.    Polygonum  amphibium,  Amphibious  Persicaria.     Ponds  and 

ditches.  8. 
Polygonum      Fagopyrum,      Buck-wheat      Persicaria.         Cultivated 

ground.  8. 
X.  1.    Pyrola  rotundifolia,  cum  aliis.      Round-leaved  Winter-Green, 

with  others.     Dry  woods,  rare.  8. 

X.  2.    Dianthus  Armeria,  Deptford  Pink.    Pastures,  etc.  8. 
X.  2.    Dianthus  deltoides,  Maiden  Pink. 
X.  3.     Silene  inflata,  Bladder  Campion. 
Silene  noctiflora,  Night-flowering  Catchfly.     Sandy  fields,  rare. 
Silene  A'rlheria,  Lobel's  Catchfly.     Banks  and  fields.  8. 
Arenaria  rubra,  Purple  Sandwort.    On  walls  and  old  ruins.  8. 

X.  4.    Sedum  reflexum,  Crooked  Yellow  Stonecrop.    On  roofs  and 

walls. 

Sedum  rupestre,  St.  Vincent's  Rock  Stonecrop.     Rocks,  rare. 
Cerastium  aquaticum,  Water  Mouse-ear  Chickweed.    Wet  places.  8. 
Spergula  nodosa,  Knotted  Spurry.    Sandy  bogs.  8. 
Cotyledon  Umbilicus,  Wall  Pennywort.     Mountainous  rocks.  9. 
Spergula  subulata,  Fringed  awl-shaped   Spurry.      Sandy  and    stony 

places.  8. 

XI.  1.    Lythrum  Salicaria,  Spiked  Purple'  Loose-strife.      Banks   of 
streams.  8. 

XI.  3.    Reseda  Luteola,  Dyer's  Rocket,  or  Weld.    Old  walls,  etc. 
Reseda  lutea,  Wild  Mignonette.    Waste  places.  8. 

XI.  4.      Sempervivum  tectorum,  Common  House-Leek.      Roofs  of 
houses.  8. 

XII.  2.      Spiraea  Filipendula,   Common    Dropwort.     Meadows   and 
pastures.  8. 

XII.  3.    Rosa  rubella,  cum  aliis.   Red-fruited  Dwarf-Rose,  with  others. 
Sea  coast. 

Rubus  fruticosus,  Common  Bramble.    Hedges,  etc. 
Rubus  plicatus,  Plaited-leaved  Bramble.     Hedes,  Shropshire.  8. 
Rubus  suberectus,  Red-fruited  Bramble.     Scotland,  Wales,  and  York- 
shire. 8. 

Rubus  corylifolius,  Hazel-leaved  Bramble.    Hedges,  etc. 
Potentilla  Alpestris,  Orange  Alpine  Cinquefoil.    Mountainous  places. 

XIII.  1.      Glaucium    luteum,    Yellow  Horned    Poppy.     Sandy  sea- 
coast. 


228  JULY. 

Papaver  hybridum,  Round  Rough-headed  Poppy.    In  sandy,  or  chalky 

fields. 

Nymphnea  alba,  White  Water-Lily.     Pools  and  lakes. 
Nuphar  lutea,  Common  Yellow  Water-Lily.     Rivers  and  pools. 
Nuphar  pumila,  Least  Water-Lily.    Scotch  lakes. 
Tilia  Europsea,  Common  Lime,  or  Linden  Tree.    Woods  and  hedges. 
XIII.  2.     Stratiotes  aloides,  Water  Aloe,  or  Water  Soldier.     Lakes 

and  pools.  8. 

XIII.  3.    Clematis   Vitalba,  Common  Traveller's  Joy.     Hedges  in 
the  south.  8. 

Ranunculus  Lingua,  Greater  Spearwort  Crowfoot.    Ditches  and  pools, 
rare.  8. 

XIV.  1.    Verbena  officinalis,  Common  Vervain.    Road-sides.  8. 

Galeopsis  villosa,  Downy  Hemp-nettle  )  _, 

V  Sandy  fields.  8. 
Galeopsis  versicolor,  Large-flowered  Hemp-nettle.  $ 

Betonica  officinalis,  Wood  Betony.         j) 

>  Woods  and  hedges.  8. 
Stachys  sylvatica,  Hedge  Woundwort.  $ 

Ballota  nigra,  Black  Horehound.     Hedges  and  banks.  8. 

Marrubium  vulgare,  Common  Horehound.    Dry  waste  grounds. 

XIV.  1.    Origanum  vulgare,  Common  Marjoram.    Bushy  places.  8. 

Thymus  Serpyllum,  Wild  Thyme.    Dry  pastures.  8. 

Thymus  Acinos,  Basil.    Gravelly  pastures.  8. 

Thymus  Calamentha,  Common  Calaminth.  8. 

Scutellaria  galericulata,  Common  skull-cap.     Banks  of  rivers.  8. 

Scutellaria  minor,  Lesser  Skull-cap.     Heathy  bogs.  8. 

Prunella  vulgaris,  Common  Self-heal.     Meadows  and  pastures.  8. 

XIV.  2.    Bartsia  Odontites,  Red  Bartsia.    Moist  pastures.  8. 
Euphrasia  officinalis,  Common  Eyebright.     Heaths  and  pastures. 
Antirrhinum  Elatine,  Sharp-pointed  Snapdragon.     Corn-fields.  9. 
Antirrhinum  majus,  Great  Snapdragon.    Old  walls.  9. 
Scrophularia  nodosa,  Knotty-rooted  Fig-wort.    Banks. 
Scrophularia  aquatica,  Water  Fig-wort.    Watery  places. 
Orobanche  minor,  Lesser  Broom-rape.     Clover-fields.  8. 

XV.  1.    Isatis  tinctoria,  Dyer's  Woad.    Cultivated  fields. 

XV.  2.     Sisymbrium  Irio,  London  Rocket.    Rubbish.  8. 

XVI.  2.    Geranium  sanguineum,  Bloody  Crane's-bill.    Rock  places.  9. 
XVI.  3.      AlthaBa     officinalis,    Common     Marsh    Mallow.      Salt- 
marshes.  9. 

Malva  moschata,  Musk  Mallow.    Borders  of  fields.  8. 
Lavatera  arborea,  Sea  Tree-Mallow.    Maratime  rocks,  rare.  10. 


JULY.  229 

XVII.  3.    Genista  tinctoria,  Dyer's  Green  Weed.     Meadows  and  pas- 
lures.  9. 

Pisum  maritimum,  Sea  Pea.    Stony  sea-shore.  8. 

Lathyrus  pratensis,  cum  aliis.  Yellow  Meadow  Vetchling,  with  others. 

Cultivated  fields,  rare.  8. 

Vicia  Sylvatica,  Wood  Vetch.     Woods  and  hedges.  8. 
Vicia  Cracca,  Tufted  Vetch.    Hedges.  8. 

Astragalus  uralensis,  Hairy  Mountain  Milk  Vetch.    Scotch  mountains. 
Astragalus  campestris,  Yellowish  Milk  Vetch. 
Trifolium  arvense,  Hare's-foot  Vetch.     Barren  fields.  8. 
Trifolium  frigiferum,  Strawberry-headed  Vetch.    Moist  meadows  and 

pastures.  8. 
Lotus  major,  Great  Bird's-foot  Trefoil.    Moist  hedges.  8. 

XVIII.  1.      Hypericum   Androsaemum,  Tutsan,  or    Park-leaved    St. 
John's-wort.     Alpine  rocks  and  woods.  8. 

Hypericum  perforatum,  Common  Perforated  St.  John's-wort.    Woods 

and  hedges.  8. 
Hypericum    humifusum,    Trailing    St.    John's-wort.      Moist,    sandy 

heaths.  8. 
Hypericum   pulchrum,  Small  upright  St.  John's-wort.      Woods  and 

heaths.  9. 

XIX.  1.    Prenanthes  muralis,  Ivy-leaved  Wall  Lettuce.    Old  Walls, 
etc.  8. 

Hieracium  Alpinum,  Alpine  Single-flowered  Hawkweed.     Wales  and 
Scotland. 

Hieracium  Auricula,  Orange  Hawkweed.    Mountainous  places. 

Hieracium  paludosum,  Marsh  Hawkweed.     Wet  places. 

Cichorium  Intybus,  Wild  Succory.     Borders  of  fields.  8. 

XIX.  1.     Arctium  Lappa,  Common  Burdock.     Waste  ground,  etc.  8. 

Serratula  tinctoria,  Common  Saw-wort.     Wood  and  banks.  8. 

Sarratula  Alpina,  Alpine  Saw-wort.    Scotch  mountains.  8. 

Carduus  nutans,  Musk  Thistle.     Heaths  and  fields.  8. 

Cnicus  palustris,  Marsh  Plumethistle.     Fields.  8. 

Cnicus  arvensis,  Creeping  Plumethistle.    Fields. 

Cnicus   Heterophyllus,   Melancholy   Plumethistle.      Pastures    in   the 
north.  8. 

Cnicus  acaulis,  Dwarf  Plumethistle.     Pastures  and  meadows.  8. 

Onopordium  Acanthium,  Common  Cotton  Thistle.     Waste  ground.  8. 

Eupatorium  cannabinum,  Common  Hemp  Agrimony.    Sides  of  rivu- 
lets. 8. 

XIX.  2.    Tanacetum  vulgare,  Common  Tansy.    Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 8. 

20 


230  JULY. 

Gnaphalium     Germanicum.     Common     Cudweed.       Pastures     and 

heaths.  8. 

Conyza  squarrosa,  Plowman's  Spikenard.     Calcareous  soils.  8. 
Erigeron  acre,  Blue  Flea-bane.     Dry,  uncultivated  land.  8. 
Senecio  Jacobsea,  Common  Ragwort.    Pastures  and  banks.  8. 
Senecio  aquaticus,  Marsh  Ragwort.    Moist  places.  8. 
Senecio  Saracenicus,  Broad-leaved  Ragwort.    Moist  meadows.  8. 
Solidago  Virgaurea,  Common  Golden-rod.    Woods  and  heaths.  9. 
Achillaea  Ptarmica,  Sneezewort.    Wet  places.  8. 

XIX.  3.    Centaurea  Cyanus,  Corn  Blue-Bottle.    Corn-fields.  8. 
Centaurea  Scabiosa,  Greater  Knapweed.     Borders  of  fields.  8. 
Centaurea  Calcitrapa,  Common  Knapweed.     Gravelly  ground.  8. 
Centaurea  solstitialis,  Yellow  Knapweed.    Cultivated  fields.  9. 

XX.  1.      Orchis   pyramidalis,   Pyramidal   Orchis.      Chalky    pastures, 
etc.  8. 

Orchis  hircina,*  Lizard  Orchis.    Chalky  soil,  rare. 

Ophrys  apifera,  Bee  Orchis.     Chalky  and  limestone  soils. 

Ophrys  arachnites,  Late  Spider  Orchis.     Pastures,  Kent. 

Listera  cordata,  Heart-leaved  Mountain  Tway-blade.     Turfy  bogs. 

Epipactis  latifolia,  Broad  leaved  Helleborine.    Woods  and  banks.  8. 

Epipactis  palustris,  Marsh  Helleborine.    Bogs.  8. 

Malaxis  paludosa,  Bog-Orchis.  )  „  R 

Malaxis  Loeselii,  Two-leaved  Orchis.  \    l 

XX.  3.      Aristolochia    Clematitis,    Common    Birthwort.     Amongst 
ruins.  8. 

XXI.  1.    Euphorbia  Peplis,  Purple  Sea-Spurge.    Devonshire  coast.  9. 
Euphorbia  exigua,  Dwarf  Sea-Spurge.    Corn-fields.  9. 

Euphorbia  helioscopia,  Sun  Sea-Spurge.     Gardens  and  fields.  9. 

XXI.  2.    Typha  latifolia.  Great  Reed-Mace.  1 

Sparganium  ramosum,  Branched  Bur-Reed.     >  Pools  and  ditches.  8. 

Sparganium  simplex,  Unbranched  Bur-Reed-  5 

XXI.  2.    Carex  incurva,  cum  aliis.    Curved  Carex,  or  Sedge,  with 

others.    Alpine  rivulets.  8. 
XXI.  5.    Myriophyllum  spicatum,  Spiked  Water  Milfoil.    Ditches  and 

pools.  8. 
Myriophyllum  verticillatum.    Whorled  Water  Milfoil.    Ditches  and 

pools. 

*  Sir  James  Smith  suspected  that  the  Nottinghamshire  habitats  for 
this  rare  plant  were  incorrect.  At  the  present  time,  it  cannot  be 
found ;  but  there  is  the  Orchis  bifolia,  which  Dr.  Deering  must  have 
mistaken  for  it. 


V  The  coast.  8. 


JULY.  231 

Sagittaria  sagittifolia,  Common  Arrow-head.    Ditches  and  pools.  8. 
XXII,  4.     Humulus  Lupulus,  Common  Hop.     Moist  hedges. 

XXII.  7.     Mercurialis  annua,  Annual  Mercury.    Cultivated  ground.  9. 
Hydrocharis  Morsus  ranae,  Common  Frog-bit.     Ditches  and  pools.  9. 

XXIII.  1.     Atriplex  portulacoides,  Sea  Orache. 
Atriplex  laciniata,  Frosted  Sea  Orache. 

XXIV.  1.    Polypodium  Dryopteris,  Three-branched  Polypody.   Moun- 
tainous woods.  8. 

Aspidium  Oreopteris,  Heath  Shield-fern.    Mountainous  places. 
Aspidium   aculeatum,  Common  Prickly   Shield-fern.      Moist,   stony 

woods. 

Aspidium  lobatum,  Close-leaved  Shield-fern.    Hedges  and  woods. 
Cystea  dentata,  Toothed  Bladder  Fern.    Mountain  Rocks. 
Scolopendrium  vulgare,  Common  Hart's  Tongue.     Moist  rocks.     ~ '  "4 
Blechnum  boreale,  .Northern  Hard-fern.     Moist  heaths.  8. 
Pteris  aquilina,  Common  Brakes,  or  Braken.     Woods,  heaths,  and 

fields. 

Woodsia  ilvensis,  Oblong  Woodsia.  )   . . 

..,     ,  .    .  ,  TIT      ,  .     >  Alpine  rocks.  9. 

Woodsia  hyperborea  Kound-leaved  Woodsia.  ^ 

Lycopodium  clavatum,  Common  Clubmoss.    Sandy  heaths.  8. 


SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Cicindela  Germanica.    Locality,  Kent  and  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
Odontonyx  rotundatus.    In  stony  places.     Month,  to  9. 

Colymbetes  vitreus.  )  T  ^  To  10. 

LV    ,  V  In  running  streams.  •< 

Colymbetes  ater.       $  f  To  9, 

Dyticus  dimidiatus.     In  the  fenny  counties. 

Berosus  globosus.     Stagnant  pools.    To  10. 

Platycerus  caraboides.     Decayed  trees. 

Telephorus  cyaneus.  "^ 

Tillus  elongatus.          V  Woods  in  the  north. 

Clerus  apiarius.  3 

Corynetes  violaceus.    Old  houses,  etc.    To  9. 

Balaninus  nucum.     On  hazel  bushes.  To  8. 

Liparus  Germanicus.  )  T      , 

>  In  the  south. 
Liparus  Anglicanus.   ^ 

Hylobius  abietis.    On  the  Scotch  Fir.    To  8. 

Prionus  coriarius.    Old  oak  woods. 

Clytus  Arietis,  The  Wasp-Beetle.    Gardens  and  hedges.    To  9 


232  JULY. 

Crypticus  glaber.          x 
Acridia  grisea.  / 

Acridia  varia.  j  Sandy  places.    To  8. 

Acridia  bipunctatum.   ) 

Vespa  crabro,  the  Hornet.    Old  trees.    To  9. 

Vespa  vulgaris,  Common  Wasp.     Banks.     To  9. 

Vespa  rufa,  Red  Wasp.    Mud-banks. 

Vespa  Britannica,  The  British  Wasp.    On  trees. 

Argynnis  Aglaia,  Darkgreen  Fritillary.     Woods  and  heaths     To  8. 

Argynnis  Paphia,  Silver-washed  Fritillary.  Woods  and  heaths. 
To  8. 

Vanessa  Polychloros,  Large  Tortoise-shell  Butterfly.  Lanes,  near 
Elm-trees. 

Vanessa  lo,  Peacock  Butterfly.    Lanes,  etc. 

Apatura  Iris,  Purple  Emperor  Butterfly.  Oak  wooda  in  the 
south. 

Limenitis  Camilla,  White  Admiral.     Woods  in  the  south. 

Hipparchia  Semele,  Grayling  Butterfly.     Heaths,  etc.     To  8. 

Hipparchia  Tithonus,  Large  Heath  Butterfly.  Woods  and  heaths. 
To  8. 

Hipparchia  Leigea.    Isle  of  Arran.    To  8. 

Hipparchia  Cassiope,  Small  Ringlet  Butterfly.  Westmoreland  and 
Cumberland. 

Hipparchia  Iphis,  Scarce  Heath  Butterfly.  Yorkshire  and  Cumber- 
land. 

Hipparchia  Davus.    Near  Manchester. 

Hipparchia  Hero,  Silver-bordered  Ringlet.  ?  .  ,  ,         „ 

S-  Ashdown  Forest. 
Hipparchia  Arcanius.  ) 

Thecla  Quercus,  Purple  Hair-Streak.    Oak  woods.    To  8. 

Thecla  Pruni,  Black  Hair-Streak.     Gardens  and  hedges. 

Thecla  Spini,  Pale  brown  Hair-Streak.     Norfolk. 

Lycnsna  dispar,  Large   Copper.    The  Fens  of  Cambridgeshire  and 

Huntingdonshire. 

Lycoena  Hippothoe,  Dark  Underwinged  Copper.     Kent. 
Polyommatus  Arion,  Large  Blue  Butterfly.    Pastures  and  commons, 

rare. 

Polyommatus  Alcon.     Buckinghamshire. 
Polyommatus   Corydon.     Chalk-hill   Blue  Butterfly.     Downs  in   the 

south. 

Polyommatus  Eros,  Pale  Blue  Butterfly.  Kent  and  Surrey. 
Polyommatus  Argus,  Silver-studded  Blue  Butterfly.  Heaths. 
Pamphila  Linea,  Small  Skipper.  Heathy  woods.  To  8. 


JULY.  233 

Trochilium  Crabroniformis,  Lunar    Hornet-Moth.     -Woods    in   the 

south. 

Zeuzera  ^Esculi,  Wood  Leopard  Moth.    On  the  trunks  of  trees. 
Clisiocampa  Neustria,  Barred  Tree  Lackey.     Hedges  and  gardens. 
Odonestis  Potaloria,  Drinker-Moth.     Woods  and  hedges. 
Orgyia  antiqua,  Common  Vapourer.     Gardens. 
Porthesia  chrysorrhaea,  Yellow-tailed  Moth.     Hedges. 
Arctia  Caja,  Great  Tiger  Moth.    Gardens. 
Lithosia  complana,  Common  Footman.    Fields  and  lanes. 
Plusia,  Iota,  Golden  Y  Moth.    Gardens,  etc. 

Prionus  coriarius. "  It  is  a  fact  generally  observed, 
that  insects  multiply  extremely  in  peculiar  habitats. 
Providence  having  assigned  to  each  animal  its  pecu- 
liar offices  and  instincts,  seems  to  have  ordained  that 
in  situations  where  the  agency  of  numbers  is  re- 
quired, the  increase  of  the  tribe  should  keep  pace 
with  the  increasing  necessity  for  its  existence.  In 
the  northern  regions,  where  vegetation  is  scant,  and 
where  the  evils  arising  from  fallen  timber  is  scarcely 
felt,  the  species  of  Cerambicidse,  or  Wood-dispersers, 
(to  which  tribe  the  Prionus  coriarius  is  referred,)  are 
few,  and  the  individuals  of  each  species  rarely  met 
with.  In  the  temperate  zone,  where  vegetation  is 
more  abundant,  the  insects  of  this  class  increase  in 
proportion,  and  in  tropical  climates,  where  vegeta- 
tion is  luxuriant,  and  where  tornado  and  storm  con- 
cur with  other  causes  to  desolate  large  tracts  of 
country,  and  fell  the  trees  of  the  forest, — there,  to 
prevent  the  evils  which  the  progress  of  vegetation 
would  sustain  from  the  fallen  trees,  the  benignity  of 
Providence  has  caused  the  Cerambicidae  to  abound: 
myriads  of  large  and  various  species  unite  to  remove 
the  evil.  The  enormous  trees  of  the  tropics  vanish^ 
20* 


234  JULY. 

as  it  were,  before  these  little  agents  of  supreme 
power,  and  room  is  consequently  left  for  Nature  to 
manifest  herself  once  more  in  varied  but  generous 
profusion. 

This  class  in  England  is  comparatively  small — 
about  eighty  species.  They  are  found  in  old  woods, 
and  in  the  stumps  of  trees.  The  Prionus  coriarius 
is  the  largest  we  possess ;  and,  unlike  its  congeners, 
its  flight  is  during  the  evening.  Its  larva  inhabits 
the  oak. 

Zeuzera  ^Esculi  (the  Leopard-Moth).  A  very 
beautiful  and  interesting  species,  nearly  allied  to  the 
Goat-Moth,  but  of  far  less  frequent  occurrence.  In 
the  larva  state  it  inhabits  the  elm  and  pear  trees, 
and  the  perfect  insect  makes  its  appearance  about 
the  beginning  of  July.  It  is  of  a  snowy  white, 
spotted  with  round,  greenish  or  bluish,  spots;  which, 
together  with  its  large  size,  soft,  downy  body,  and 
somewhat  hyaline  anterior  wings,  give  it  a  very 
delicate  appearance.  It  has  twice  occurred  near 
Nottingham. 


AUGUST. 


Lift  up  your  eyes  and  look  on  the  fields ;  for  they  are  white  already 
to  harvest. 

JOHN  iv.  35. 


THE  grand  feature  of  this  month  is  CORN  HAR- 
VEST. It  is  a  time  for  universal  gladness  of  heart. 
Nature  has  completed  her  most  important  opera- 
tions. She  has  ripened  her  best  fruits,  and  a  thou- 
sand hands  are  ready  to  reap  them  with  joy.  It  is 
a  gladdening  sight  to  stand  upon  some  eminence 
and  behold  the  yellow  hues  of  harvest  amid  the 
dark  relief  of  hedges  and  trees,  to  see  the  shocks 
standing  thickly  in  a  land  of  peace ;  the  partly- 
reaped  fields — and  the  clear,  cloudless  sky,  shed- 
ding over  all  its  lustre.  There  is  a  solemn  splen- 
dour, a  mellowness  and  maturity  of  beauty,  thrown 
over  the  landscape.  The  wheat-crops  shine  on  the 
hills  and  slopes,  as  Wordsworth  expresses  it,  "  like 
golden  shields  cast  down  from  the  sun."  For  the 
lovers  of  solitary  rambles,  for  all  who  desire  to 
feel  the  pleasures  of  a  thankful  heart,  and  to  parti- 
cipate in  the  happiness  of  the  simple  and  the  lowly, 


236  AUGUST. 

now  is  the  time  to  stroll  abroad.  They  will  find 
beauty  and  enjoyment  spread  abundantly  before 
them.  They  will  find  the  mowers  sweeping  down 
the  crops  of  pale  barley,  every  spiked  ear  of  which, 
so  lately  looking  up  bravely  at  the  sun,  is  now  bent 
downward  in  a  modest  and  graceful  curve,  as  if 
abashed  at  his  ardent  and  incessant  gaze.  They 
will  find  them  cutting  down  the  rustling  oats,  each 
followed  by  an  attendant  rustic  who  gathers  the 
swath  into  sheaves  from  the  tender  green  of  the 
young  clover,  which,  commonly  sown  with  oats  to 
constitute  the  future  crop,  is  now  showing  itself 
luxuriantly.  But  it  is  in  the  wheat-field  that  all 
the  jollity,  and  gladness,  and  picturesqueness  of 
harvest  are  concentrated.  Wheat  is  more  parti- 
cularly the  food  of  man.  Barley  affords  him  a 
wholesome  but  much  abused  potation  ; — the  oat  is 
welcome  to  the  homely  board  of  the  hardy  moun- 
taineers, but  wheat  is  especially  and  every  where 
the  "  staff  of  life."  To  reap  and  gather  it  in,  every 
creature  of  the  hamlet  is  assembled.  The  farmer 
is  in  the  field,  like  a  rural  king  amid  his  people — 
the  labourer,  old  or  young,  is  there  to  collect  what 
he  has  sown  with  toil,  and  watched  in  its  growth 
with  pride ;  the  dame  has  left  her  wheel  and  her 
shady  cottage,  and,  -with  sleeve-defended  arms, 
scorns  to  do  less  thari  the  best  of  them : — the 
blooming  damsel  is  there,  adding  her  sunny  beauty 
to  that  of  universal  nature ;  the  boy  cuts  down  the 
stalks  which  overtop  his  head ;  children  glean 
amongst  the  shocks;  and  even  the  un  walk  able 


AUGUST.  237 

infant  sits  propt  with  sheaves,  and  plays  with  the 
stubble,  and 

With  all  its  twined  flowers. 

Such  groups  are  often  seen  in  the  wheat-field  as 
deserve  the  immortality  of  the  pencil.  There  is 
something  too  about  wheat-harvest  which  carries 
back  the  mind  and  feasts  it  with  the  pleasures  of 
antiquity.  The  sickle  is  almost  the  only  implement 
which  has  descended  from  the  olden  times  in  its 
pristine  simplicity — to  the  present  hour  neither 
altering  its  form  nor  becoming  obsolete  amid  all 
the  fashions  and  improvements  of  the  world.  It  is 
the  same  now  as  it  was  in  those  scenes  of  rural 
beauty  which  the  scripture  history,  without  any 
laboured  description,  often  by  a  single  stroke,  pre- 
sents so  livingly  to  the  imagination ;  as  it  was  when 
tender  thoughts  passed 

Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when,  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn  ; 

when  the  minstrel-king  wandered  through  the  soli- 
tudes of  Paran,  or  fields  reposing  at  the  feet  of 
Carmel ;  or  "  as  it  fell  on  a  day,  that  the  child  of 
the  good  Shunamite  went  out  to  his  father  to  the 
reapers.  And  he  said  unto  his  father,  My  head, 
my  head  !  And  he  said  to  a  lad,  Carry  him  to  his 
mother.  And  when  he  had  taken  him,  and  brought 


239 


AUGUST. 


him  to  his  mother,  he  sate  on  her  knees  till  noon, 
and  then  died."     2  Kings,  c.  iv.  18—20. 

Let  no  one  say  it  is  not  a  season  of  happiness  to 
the  toiling  peasantry;  I  know  that  it  is.  In  the 
days  of  boyhood  I  have  partaken  their  harvest 
labours,  and  listened  to  the  overflowings  of  their 
hearts  as  they  sate  amid  the  sheaves  beneath  the 
fine  blue  sky,  or  among  the  rich  herbage  of  some 
green  headland  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree,  while 
the  cool  keg  plentifully  replenished  the  horn,  and 
sweet  after  exertion  were  the  contents  of  the  har- 
vest-field basket.  I  know  that  the  poor  harvesters 
are  amongst  the  most  thankful  contemplators  of  the 
bounty  of  Providence,  though  so  little  of  it  falls  to 
their  share.  To  them  harvest  comes  as  an  annual 
festivity.  To  their  healthful  frames,  the  heat  of  the 
open  fields,  which  would  oppress  the  languid  and 
relaxed,  is  but  an  exhilarating  and  pleasant  glow. 
The  inspiration  of  the  clear  sky  above,  and  of 
scenes  of  plenty  around  them,  and  the  very  cir- 
cumstance of  their  being  drawn  from  their  several 
dwellings  at  this  bright  season,  open  their  hearts 
and  give  a  life  to  their  memories:  and  many  an 
anecdote  and  history  from  "  the  simple  annals  of 
the  poor"  are  there  related,  which  need  only  to  pass 
through  the  mind  of  a  Wordsworth  or  a  Crabbe, 
to  become  immortal  in  their  mirth  or  wo. 

Whilst  speaking  of  harvest  I  must  not  omit  to 
notice  the  splendid  appearance  of  the  HARVEST 
MOON.  The  circumstance  of  this  moon  rising 
several  nights  successively  almost  at  the  same  time, 


AUGUST.  239 

immediately  after  sunset,  has  given  it  an  import- 
ance in  the  eyes  of  farmers ;  but  it  is  not  the  less 
remarkable  for  its  singular  and  splendid  beauty. 
No  moon  during  the  year  can  bear  any  comparison 
with  it.  At  its  rising  it  has  a  character  so  pecu- 
liarly its  own,  that  the  more  a  person  is  accustomed 
to  expect  and  to  observe  it,  the  more  it  strikes  him 
with  astonishment.  I  would  advise  every  one  who 
can  go  out  in  the  country,  to  make  a  practice  of 
watching  for  its  rising.  The  warmth  and  the  dry- 
ness  of  the  earth,  the  clearness  and  balmy  serenity  of 
the  atmosphere  at  that  season,  the  sounds  of  voices 
borne  from  distant  fields,  the  freshness  which  comes 
with  the  evening,  combine  to  make  the  twilight 
walk  delicious ;  and  scarcely  has  the  sun  departed 
in  the  west,  when  the  moon  in  the  east  rises  from 
beyond  some  solitary  hill,  or  from  behind  the  dark 
rich  foliage  of  trees,  and  sails  up  into  the  still  and 
transparent  air  in  the  full  magnificence  of  a  world. 
It  comes  not  as  in  common,  a  fair  but  flat  disc  on 
the  face  of  the  sky, — we  behold  it  suspended  in  the 
crystal  air  in  its  greatness  and  rotundity ;  we  per- 
ceive the  distance  beyond  it  as  sensibly  as  that 
before  it ;  and  its  apparent  size  is  magnificent.  In 
a  short  time,  however,  it  has  acquired  a  considera- 
ble altitude — its  apparent  bulk  has  diminished — its 
majestic  grandeur  has  waned,  and  it  sails  on  its 
way  calmly  beautiful,  but  in  nothing  differing  from 
its  usual  character. 

During  this  month  nature  seems  to  experience  a 
second  spring.     Several  trees,  particularly  the  oak 


240  AUGUST. 

and  elm,  put  forth  shoots  and  new  leaves,  enlivening 
the  sombre  woods.  The  hedges  assume  a  lighter 
green ;  and  if  their  leaves  have  been  devoured  in 
the  spring  by  caterpillars,  as  is  sometimes  the  case, 
they  are  now  completely  reclothed  in  the  most  deli- 
cate foliage.  The  ground  already  experiences  the 
effect  of  the  shortening  days.  The  drought  occa- 
sioned by  the  intense  heat  and  long  days  of  July 
has  abated ;  cool  nights,  dews,  and  occasional 
showers  restore  the  mown  fields  and  sunburnt  pas- 
tures to  a  degree  of  verdure,  and  reanimate  the 
remaining  flowers.  The  small  blue  campanula, 
wild  scabious,  blue  chicory,  the  large  white  con- 
volvulus, hawkweeds,  and  the  Calluna  vuJgaris,  or 
common  heath,  still  adorn  wastes,  fields,  and  way- 
sides. The  pink-and-white  convolvulus  has  been 
one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of  summer,  flowering 
in  the  dryest  spots,  where  all  around  is  brown  from 
extreme  drought,  with  cheerful  beauty.  A  few 
clusters  of  honeysuckles  may  yet  be  seen,  here  and 
there,  on  the  hedges.  And  the  antirrhinum  linaria, 
or  common  toad-flax,  is  in  full  flower  in  the  thickets. 
It  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  notice  that 
singular  property  of  seeds  by  which  they  are 
preserved  in  the  ground  for  ages.  It  appears  from 
certain  circumstances,  that  when  they  are  buried 
below  that  particular  depth  at  which  they  feel  the 
influence  of  the  atmosphere  and  consequently  vege- 
tate, they  are  in  a  state  of  preservation  which  may 
and  does  often  continue  for  centuries — perhaps,  for 
aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  to  the  end  of  the 


AUGUST.  241 

world,  if  undisturbed;  certainly,  however,  to  an 
amazing  extent  of  time.  By  this  beautiful  law 
of  the  all-wise  Creator,  the  vegetable  tribes  are 
never  likely  to  be  lost.  However  cultivation  or 
carelessness  may  tend  to  extirpate  certain  species, 
their  seeds  lie  in  myriads  in  the  treasury  of  the 
earth,  and  some  event  such  as  we  sometimes  wit- 
ness, the  lowering  of  a  hill,  the  cutting  of  a  single 
turf,  exposes  them  to  the  action  of  the  air,  and  forth 
they  spring.  Thus  it  is  that  farmers  are  frequently 
surprised  on  ploughing  up  a  field  that  has  lain  in 
lea  beyond  the  memory  of  man,  to  see  a  plentiful 
crop  of  various  and  unusual  plants  spring  up.  So  I 
have  observed  in  Sherwood  Forest,  that  where  turf 
is  pared,  henbane  is  almost  sure  to  exhibit  itself, 
though  none  has  been  seen  in  the  neighbourhood  for  ^r  . 
years.  Many  instances  of  this  kind  have  no  doubt  ,^,  «" 
attracted  the  attention  of  all  curious  lovers  of  Na- 
ture. 

Brooks  and  watery  dykes  now  display  a  luxu- 
riance of  flowers  and  verdure-  The  heat  which 
withered  all  else  has  cherished  them,  having  a  con- 
stant supply  of  moisture.  Water-flags,  bulrushes, 
and  reeds  have  attained  their  full  growth;  the 
arrowhead  grows  in  large  masses  elegantly  inter- 
spersed with  its  delicate  flowers.  The  white  and 
yellow  water-lilies  still  flourish,  as  do  those  richly 
blossoming  plants,  the  crimson  loosestrife  and 
flowering  rush.  Willows  are  still  rich  in  foliage ; 
and  to  those  who  love  to  take  a  book  into  some 
pleasant  sylvan  nook,  it  is  very  charming  to  stroll 
21 


242 


AUGUST. 


during  the  warmth  of  the  day  amongst  the  willow- 
holts  on  the  banks  of  rivers.  The  ground  is  dry — 
you  may  lounge  at  your  ease.  There  is  a  grateful 
freshness  in  the  wilderness  of  green  boughs  and 
leaves  that  surround  you ;  no  tree,  saith  the  vene- 
rable Evelyn,  affordeth  so  cool  a  shade  as  the 
willow ;  and  thus  agreeably  hidden,  you  may  often 
catch  glimpses  of  the  habits  of  the  shyer  and 
smaller  animals — traits  which  perhaps  have  yet 
escaped  the  naturalist,  and  which  may  tend  to 
eradicate  those  ignorant  prejudices  so  cruel  and 
oppressive  to  many  of  the  innocent  commoners  of 
Nature.  The  water-rat  is  considered  a  common 
thief,  and  is  killed  wherever  he  is  found.  If  you 
watch  him  in  his  secluded  streams,  you  will  quickly 
discern  that  his  food  is  almost  entirely  the  herbage 
which  grows  in  them,  and  especially  the  leaf  of  the 
arrowhead.  I  have  seen  him  repeatedly  sally  forth 
from  his  retreat,  crop  a  leaf  of  arrowhead,  and  bear 
it  away  in  his  mouth  by  the  stem,  as  the  dove  is 
drawn  returning  to  the  ark  with  the  olive-branch. 
Who  would  not  find  a  greater  gratification  in 
watching  the  happy  and  undestructive  habits  of  a 
timid  little  creature  than  in  shooting  it,  or  worrying 
it  with  dogs  ?  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  these  or 
any  other  wild  animals  should  be  suffered  to  in- 
crease till  they  become  nuisances,  but  in  moderate 
numbers  I  would  let  them  enjoy  God's  good  gifts  of 
life  and  sunshine ;  and  if  they  must  be  the  victims 
of  our  rights,  they  should  never  be  the  objects  of 
our  wantonness. 


AUGUST.  243 

While  speaking  of  the  habits  of  animals,  I  may 
as  well  add  one  or  two  other  facts.  The  corn- 
crake which  visits  us  in  summer,  and  keeps  up  in 
our  meadows  its  cry  of  crake,  crake,  is,  it  is  well 
known,  not  easily  to  be  seen.  It  runs  with  great 
rapidity,  and  is  loth  to  take  wing.  When  found,  it 
has  the  instinct,  in  common  with  some  other  ani- 
mals, and  especially  insects,  to  feign  death.  A 
gentleman  had  one  brought  to  him  by  his  dog.  It 
was  dead  to  all  appearance.  As  it  lay  on  the 
ground,  he  turned  it  over  with  his  foot — he  was 
convinced  it  was  dead.  Standing  by,  however, 
some  time  in  silence,  he  suddenly  saw  it  open  an 
eye.  He  then  took  it  up — its  head  fell — its  legs 
hung  loose — it  appeared  again  totally  dead.  He 
then  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  before  very  long  he 
felt  it  all  alive  and  struggling  to  escape.  He  took 
it  out, — it  was  as  lifeless  as  before.  He  then  laid 
it  again  upon  the  ground  and  retired  to  some  dis- 
tance; in  about  five  minutes  it  warily  raised  its 
head,  looked  round,  and  decamped  at  full  speed. 

I  was,  on  a  fine  summer  day,  sitting  in  the 
meadows  opposite  Tutbury  Castle  in  Staffordshire, 
contemplating  the  remains  of  that  fabric  which 
once  imprisoned  the  Queen  of  Scots.  On  the  slope 
of  the  castle-hill  facing  me  I  observed  a  rabbit 
sitting  by  its  burrow.  Suddenly  from  a  bush  at 
some  distance  issued  a  large  weasel,  and  darting 
on  with  the  rapidity  of  an  arrow,  attempted  to 
make  its  way  into  the  burrow,  in  which,  no  doubt, 
were  the  rabbit's  young  ones.  The  rabbit,  with  an 


244  AUGUST. 

air  of  the  utmost  sang-froid,  raising  itself  as  the 
weasel  approached,  received  him  with  several 
smart  thumps  upon  the  head.  He  fled  back,  but 
speedily  renewed  the  attack,  and  was  received  in 
the  same  style.  The  assault,  battery,  and  retreat 
were  maintained  for  at  least  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
when  the  weasel  crawled  away  apparently  ex- 
hausted, and  appeared  no  more.  Such  is  the 
valour  infused  by  parental  instinct  into  the  most 
weak  and  timid  creatures. 

During  this  month  swarms  of  young  frogs,  re- 
leased from  the  tadpole  state  of  existence  in  ditches 
and  pools,  are  hopping  across  your  path.  In  the 
south  of  England,  the  marsh  frogs  begin  their 
chorus  about  April,  and  continue  it  till  this  time. 
Just  as  the  tadpole  assumes  a  frog-shape,  they 
become  suddenly  silent;  as  if  their  music  was 
intended  as  a  charm  to  facilitate  the  young  passing 
through  the  transition  states,  from  the  spawn  to  the 
tadpole,  and  from  the  tadpole  to  the  frog.  This 
chorus  is  very  different  from  the  croaking  of  the 
common  frog,  which  is  seldom  heard  except  in 
March.  It  is  a  regular  chorus  of  many  hundreds 
in  concert,  which  commences  at  evening  and  con- 
tinues all  night  during  those  months,  having,  at  a 
distance,  the  sound  of  a  wheel  eternally  going  round. 
Some  naturalists,  from  the  difficulty  of  getting  near 
the  creatures  while  singing,  have  attributed  the 
sound  to  a  species  of  grillus ;  but  any  one  who  will 
take  a  few  turns  on  Ditton  Marsh,  or  almost  any 
marshy  common  of  Surrey,  on  a  summer's  evening, 


AUGUST.  245 

may  speedily  convince  himself  that  the  chorus  pro- 
ceeds from  a  species  of  bull-frog.  Their  eternal 
nocturnal  chorus  has  a  curious,  and,  at  length, 
wearying  effect  on  the  ears  of  persons  from  more 
northern  counties.  In  the  evening  numbers  of  the 
large  black  beetle  (Geotrupus  stercorarius)  fly  hum- 
ming and  striking  against  you,  often  in  your  face. 
After  rains  mushrooms  are  to  be  found  in  abundance 
in  old  pastures. 

Those  singular  appearances  in  the  grass  com- 
monly called  FAIRY-RINGS,  are  never  more  con- 
spicuous than  in  the  autumn  months.  Even  when 
all  other  grass  is  brown,  they  exhibit  a  well-defined 
and  bright-green  circle.  The  production  of  these 
remarkable  circles,  and  the  property  which  they 
possess  of  every  year  becoming  larger,  have,  of 
late  years,  been  the  subjects  of  various  theories. 
They  have  been  attributed  to  lightning,  to  fungi 
which  every  year  grow  upon  the  outer  margin  of 
the  circle,  and  then  perishing,  cause,  by  the  rich 
remains,  a  fresh  circle  of  vivid  green  to  appear, 
somewhat  wider  of  course  than  the  former  one. 
They  have  also  been  attributed  to  insects.  The 
least  plausible  theory  is  that  of  lightning ;  the  most 
plausible  that  of  fungi.  Insects  are  a  consequence 
of  the  fungi,  rather  than  a  cause  of  the  circle ;  for 
where  there  are  fungi  there  will  be  insects  to  devour 
them.  Fungi  are  always  found  more  or  less  about 
them.  I  have  seen  them  of  so  large  a  species  that, 
in  their  growth,  they  totally  destroyed  the  grass 
beneath  them,  dividing  the  green  ring  into  two,  and 
21* 


246  AUGUST. 

leaving  one  of  bare  rich  mould  between  them.  The 
origin  of  these  circles  too,  which  hitherto  has 
escaped  the  eyes  of  the  naturalist,  but  which  is 
nothing  more  than  a  small  mushroom-bed,  made  by 
the  dung  of  cattle  lying  undisturbed  in  the  grass 
where  first  deposited,  till  it  becomes  completely 
incorporated  with  the  soil  beneath,  favours,  more 
than  all,  the  theory  of  the  fungi.  Every  one 
knows  that  where  this  occurs,  a  tuft  of  rank  grass 
springs  up,  in  the  centre  of  which  a  crop  of  fungi 
sometimes  appears,  and  again  perishes.  There  then 
is  the  nucleus  of  a  fairy-ring.  The  next  year  the 
tuft  is  found  to  have  left  a  green  spot,  of  perhaps  a 
foot  and  a  half  in  diameter,  which  has  already 
parted  in  the  centre.  This  expansion  goes  on  from 
year  to  year ;  the  area  of  the  circle  is  occupied  by 
common  grass,  and  successive  crops  of  fungi  give  a 
vivid  greenness  to  the  ring  which  bounds  it.  That 
only  a  few  tufts  are  converted  into  fairy-rings,  may 
be  owing  to  their  not  being  sufficiently  enriched  to 
become  mushroorn-beds ;  but  that  all  fairy-rings 
which  exist  have  this  origin,  will  be  found  to  admit 
of  little  doubt.  This,  though  true,  is  nevertheless  a 
humiliating  expose  of  the  charmed  fairy-rings ;  but — 

Do  not  all  charms  fly 
At  the  mere  touch  of  cold  philosophy  ? 
There  was  an  awful  rainbow  once  in  heaven; 
We  know  her  woof,  her  texture  ;  she  is  given 
In  the  dull  catalogue  of  common  things. 
Philosophy  will  clip  an  angel's  wings  ; 


AUGUST.  247 

Conquer  all  mysteries  by  rule  and  line ; 
Empty  the  haunted  air,  and  gnomed  mine  ; 
Unweave  a  rainbow,  as  it  erewhile  made 
The  tender-personed  Lamia  melt  into  a  shade. 

KEATS. 

Birds  are  now  seen  wandering  about  in  large 
flocks,  having  completed  all  their  summer  cares, 
and  now  enjoy  the  range  of  earth  and  air  in  one 
long  holiday,  till  their  companies  shall  be  thinned  by 
gunpowder  and  winter  weather. 

This  glowing  month  frequently  presents  splendid 
appearances  in  the  highly  electric  clouds.  In 
August,  1827,  I  was  walking  in  the  country  early  in 
the  morning.  The  sky  was  perfectly  clear  till  the 
sun  rose  above  the  horizon.  The  country  was  then 
gradually  obscured  by  a  thick  haze,  which  about  an 
hour  afterwards  soared  steadily  but  rapidly  aloft, 
leaving  the  landscape  as  clear  as  before,  but  filling 
the  sky  with  an  unbroken  expanse  of  motionless 
cloud.  I  returned  in  the  evening ;  the  heavens  and 
earth  exhibited  a  magnificent  spectacle.  The  land- 
scape possessed  a  striking  lustre  and  clearness,  and 
was  brought,  as  it  were,  immediately  to  the  eye  by 
that  effect  of  transparent  vapour  which  often  pre- 
cedes thunder-storms.  The  vault  of  heaven  was 
strewn  with  what  are  called  horse-tail  clouds,  some 
white,  drawn  out  like  webbs  of  some  light  and 
transparent  texture  suddenly  seized  and  tossed 
about  by  a  giant  hand,  and  curling  up  at  their  ex- 
tremities like  tempestuous  and  foamy  billows.  In 
the  west  the  setting  sun  cast  up  his  lines  of  radiating 


348  AUGUST. 

beams  to  the  zenith,  which  appeared  to  be  answered 
in  the  east  by  corresponding  radiations  of  black 
lines,  which  crossed  the  clouds  directly  into  the 
higher  heavens.  These  vanished  with  the  sun. 
The  heat  of  the  atmosphere  during  this  time  was 
intolerable,  and  the  evening  terminated  by  a  night 
of  tremendous  thunder  and  lightning. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month  symptoms  of  the 
year's  decline  press  upon  our  attention.  The  morn- 
ing and  evening  air  has  an  autumnal  freshness ;  the 
hedge-fruit  has  acquired  a  tinge  of  ruddiness  ;  the 
berries  of  the  mountain-ash  have  assumed  their 
beautiful  orange  hue ;  and  swallows  twitter  as  they 
fly,  or  sit  perched  in  a  row  upon  a  rail  or  the  dead 
bough  of  a  tree.  The  swft  has  taken  its  departure. 
That  beautiful  phenomenon,  the  white  fog,  is  again 
beheld  rolling  its  snowy  billows  along  the  valleys  ; 
the  dark  tops  of  trees  emerging  from  it  as  from  a 
flood. 

Now  is  the  season  for  enjoying  the  animated 
solitude  of  sea-side  rambles.  The  time  is  also 
come  when  sportsmen  may  renew  their  healthful 
recreation  :  the  season  for  grouse-shooting  upon  the 
moors  commencing  on  the  12th  of  August,  whereas 
partridge-shooting  does  not  begin  till  the  1st  of 
September,  when  the  corn-lands  may  be  expected  to 
be  cleared. 

August  is  so  termed  after  Augustus,  as  July  from 
Julius  Caesar.  The  Romans  were  accustomed  to 
call  July  and  August  originally  Quintilis  and  Sex- 
tilis,  or  fifth  and  sixth,  dating  from  the  old  yearly 


AUGUST.  249 

commencement  of  March :  September,  October, 
November,  and  December,  meaning  the  seventh, 
eighth,  ninth,  and  tenth  months  accordingly.  Our 
Saxon  ancestors  called  it,  says  Verstegan,  Arn- 
monath,  barn-month,  from  the  filling  of  their  barns ; 
am  meaning  harvest.  Some  say  it  was  called,  as 
well  as  June,  Woed-monath. 

In  the  middle  of  this  month,  the  young  goldfinch 
broods  appear;  lapwings  congregate,  thistle-down 
floats,  and  birds  resume  their  spring  songs.  A  little 
afterwards  flies  abound  in  windows,  linnets  con- 
gregate, and  bulls  make  their  shrill  autumnal  bellow- 
ing ;  and  towards  the  end,  the  beech  turns  yellow, 
the  first  symptoms  of  approaching  autumn.  The 
nuthatch  chatters,  and  the  robin's  pensive  note  is 
again  heard. 

Hops  are  gathered  this  month.  We  cannot  boast 
of  our  vineyards ;  but  we  question  whether  Italy 
itself  can  show  a  more  beautiful  or  picturesque 
scene  than  an  English  hop-garden  in  picking  time. 
The  hops,  which  have  luxuriantly  climbed  to  the 
very  tops  of  their  poles,  hang  on  all  sides  their 
heavy  heads  of  scaly  flowers  in  festoons  and  gar- 
lands ;  and  the  groups  of  pickers,  seated  in  the  open 
air  beneath  the  clear  lustre  of  an  autumnal  sky, — 
age  in  its  contentment,  and  youth  in  its  joy, — and 
the  boys  and  girls  who  carry  to  them  the  poles 
covered  with  all  their  nodding  honours,  may  match, 
for  objects  of  interest,  the  light  forms  and  dark  eyes 
of  Italy.  Kent,  Sussex,  and  Worcestershire,  are 
the  counties  most  famous  for  the  growth  of  hops. 


250  AUGUST. 

Considerable  quantities,  however,  are  cultivated  in 
Nottinghamshire,  and  are  known  in  commerce  by 
the  name  of  North  Clay  Hops.  Those  of  Kent 
rank  first  in  quality.  Tusser,  who  wrote  in  1557, 
gives,  in  his  "  Five  Hundreth  Poyntes  of  Good 
Husbandrie,"  the  following  rules  for  the  choice  of  a 

HOP-GROUND. 

When  fansie  persuadeth,  among  other  crops, 
To  have  for  his  spending  sufficient  of  hops, 
Must  willingly  follow  of  choices  to  choose 
Such  lessons  approved  as  skilful  do  use. 

Ground  gravellie,  sandie,  and  mixed  with  claie 
Is  naughtie  for  hops,  anie  maner  of  waie  ; 
Or  if  it  be  mingled  with  rubbish  and  stone, 
For  drieness  and  barrenness,  let  it  alone. 

Choose  soile  for  the  hop  of  the  rottenest  mould, 
Well  donged  and  wrought  as  a  garden-plot  should  ; 
Not  far  from  the  water,  but  not  overflown  ; 
This  lesson  well  noted  is  meete  to  be  known. 

The  sun  in  the  south,  or  else  southlie  and  west, 
Is  well  to  the  hop,  as  a  welcomed  guest ; 
But  wind  in  the  north,  or  else  northerlie  east, 
To  the  hop  is  as  ill  as  a  fraie  in  a  feast. 

Meet  plot  for  a  hop-ground  once  found,  as  is  told, 
Make  thereof  account  as  of  jewel  of  gold  ; 
Now  dig  it  and  leave  it,  the  sunne  for  to  burne, 
And  afterwards  fence  it  to  serve  for  that  turne* 

The  hop  for  his  profit  I  thus  do  exalt, 
It  strengtheneth  drink,  and  it  favoureth  malt  ; 
And,  being  well  brewed,  long  kept  it  will  last, 
And  drawing  abide,  if  ye  drawe  not  too  fast. 


AUGUST.  251 


RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Hay-ricks  are  trimmed  and  thatched,  mown  fields 
manured,  and  meadows  watered  before  corn-harvest, 
which  sets  in  this  month,  and  forms  its  great  business. 
Potatoes  require  earthing-up.  Cabbage-seed  is  sown, 
and  poultry  watched  upon  the  stubbles.  Honey  is 
gathered.  Old  grass-lands  are  pared  and  burnt  for 
wheat,  and  the  ashes  spread  and  ploughed  in.  In 
the  garden,  withered  stems  of  flowers,  and  remains 
of  exhausted  crops,  require  removing,  and  the 
ground  digging  afresh.  Bulbs  are  taken  up,  seeds 
gathered,  and  some  kinds  sown  for  the  next  spring. 

ANGLING. 

Tench  spawn.  All  other  fresh-water  fish  may 
be  considered  in  season.  From  this  time  till  late  in 
the  year,  roach  is  taken  in  great  quantities  in  the 
Thames  and  other  rivers.  Evening  is  the  best  time 
during  this  month  for  fly-fishing. 

Flies,  the  same  as  in  July ;  then  the  ant-fly,  the 
fern-fly,  a  white  hackle,  a  Harry-long-legs,  and  all 
the  browns  and  duns,  as  in  May. 

MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 

The  business  of  incubation  being  now  over  with 
most  birds,  the  migratory  motions  again  commence  ; 
some  seeking  the  bounteous  provisions  of  autumn, 
and  some  their  winter-quarters.  The  siskin,  the 
mountain  finch,  and  the  crossbeak,  are  not  very 


252  AUGUST. 

regularly  seen.  The  last  comes,  in  a  few  particular 
summers,  in  large  flocks,  and  commits  great  havoc 
in  our  orchards.  The  quail  is  said  to  remain  fre- 
quently the  whole  year.  The  lapwing  remains 
through  the  winter  in  the  southern  counties. 


Calidris  arenaria,  Sanderling,  comes  August,  goes  February.     Haunts, 

Beach. 

Fringilla  Montifringilla,  Alountain  Finch,  goes  Feb.     Mountains. 
Fringilla  Spinus,  Siskin,  goes  Feb.     Near  London. 
Larus  nsevius,  Gray  Gull,  comes  Aug.  4,  goes  April  10.    Beach. 
Larus  argentatus,  Blue  Gull,  or  Herring,  comes  Aug.  4,  goes  April  10. 

Beach. 
Loxia    Curvirostra,    Crossbeak,    comes    August    4,   goes    April    10. 

Orchards,  rare. 

Limosa  aegocephala,  Godwit,  goes  Feb. 
Limosa  rufa,  Bar-tailed  Godwit,  goes  Feb. 
Squatarola  cinerea,  Gray  Plover,  comes  Aug.  26,  goes  Dec.  1. 
Strepsilas  interpres,  Common  Turnstone,  goes  March. 
Totanus  Glottis,  Green-shanked  Godwit,  goes  Feb.  Beach. 

Totanus  fuscus,  Cambridge  Godwit,  goes  May. 
Totanus  striata.  Purple  Sandpiper,  goes  May. 
Tringa  Canutus,  Knot,  comes  Aug.  28,  goes  Feb.  3. 
Tringa  Alpina,  Purre,  goes  Feb. 


DEPARTURES. 

Alca  Torda,  Razor-bill,  comes  May.    Haunts,  Rocky  isles. 
Anthus  trivialis,  Field  Titlark,  comes  May.    Grassy  fields. 
Charadrius  Morinellus,  Dottrel,  comes  May.    Heaths  and  mountains. 
Columba  Turtur,  Turtle  Dove,  comes  April.    Woods  in  Kent,  Surrey, 

etc. 

Coturnix  vulgaris,  Quail,  comes  April.    Grassy  fields. 
Cuculus  canorus.  Cuckoo,  comes  April.    Fields  generally. 
Cypselus  Apus,  Swift,  goes  15,  comes  April.    Eaves  and  towers. 
Emberiza  Milliaria,  Bunting,  comes  March.    Grassy  fields. 


AUGUST.  253 

Fratercula  arctica,  Puffin,  goes  15,  comes  April.    North  coasts. 
Larus  ridibundus,  Red-legged  Smew,  goes  12,  comes  ^ 

March  4.  C  Sea-shore. 

Uria  Troile,  Foolish  Guillimot,  comes  Oct.  3 

Vanellus  cristatus,  Lapwing,  comes  April.    Heaths  and  fields. 
Yunx  Torquilla,  Wryneck,  comes  April.    Orchards  and  woods. 


CALENDAR  OF  THE   FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  II.  Order  1.     Veronica  incisa,  Cut-leaved  Speedwell.  9. 
Veronica  Allioni,  Creeping  Speedwell.  9. 
Veronica  pinnata,  Wing-leaved  Speedwell.  9. 
Calceolaria  rugosa,  Wrinkled  Slipperwort.  9. 
Calceolaria  integrifolia,  Entire-leaved  Slipperwort.  9. 

III.  1.    Iris  dichotoma,  Dichotomous  Iris. 
Commelina  erecta,  Upright  Commeline. 

IV.  1.    Scabiosa  leucantha,  Snowy  Scabious.  9. 
Cornus  Canadensis,  Canadian  Dogwood. 

IV.  3.    Ilex  cassina,  Dahoon  Holly. 

V.  1.    Phlox  paniculata,  Panicled  Lychnidea.  9. 
Lobelia  urens,  Acrid  Lobelia.  9. 

Lobelia  siphilitica,  Blue  Cardinal-flower.  10. 

V.  2.    Asclepias  purpureus,  Purple  Swallow-wort.  9. 

V.  3.    Rhus  Copallinum,  Lentiscus-leaved  Sumach.  9. 

VI.  1.    Hemerocallis  alba,  White  Day-lily.  9. 
Scilla  autumnalis,  Autumnal  Squill. 

VIII.  1.    Erica  stricta,  Straight-branched  Heath. 
VIII.  3.     Polygonum  scandens,  Climbing  Polygonum. 
Polygonum  Virginicum,  Virginian  Polygonum. 
X.  ].     Andromeda  acuminata,  Acute-leaved  Andromeda. 

X.  2.    Saxifraga  aspera,  Rough-leaved  Saxifrage. 
Saxifraga  Hirculus,  Yellow  Marsh  Saxifrage. 
Dianthus  pungens,  Pungent  Pink.  10. 

XI.  1.    Lythrum  triflorum,  Three-flowered  Lythrum. 
Lythrum  verticillatum,  Whorled  Lythrum. 

XII.  4.    Spiraea  tomentosa,  Woolly-leaved  Spiraea. 

XII.  5.    Rosa  bracleata,  Lord  Macartney's  White  Rose.  9. 

XIV.  1.    Dracocephalon  denticulatum,  Tooth-leaved  Dragon's  Head. 

Prunella  Pennsylvanica,  N.  American  Self-heal.  10. 

XIV.  2.    Chelone  glabra,  White-flowered  Chelone.  10. 

Chelone  obliqua,  Red-flowered  Chelone.  10. 

22 


254  AUGUST. 

Pentstemon  pubescens,  American  Pentstemon.  9. 
Pentstemon  laevigatum,  Smooth-leaved  Pentstemon.  9. 

XVI.  7.     Hibiscus  Syriacus,  cum   var.      Althjea    Frutex,  with  ra- 
rieties.  9. 

XVII.  4.    Glycine  apios,  Tuberous  rooted  Glycine. 
XIX.  1.    Cnicus  tuberosus,  Tuberous  Thistle. 
Chrysocoma  biflora,  Two-flowered  Goldilocks.  9. 
Chrysocoma  villosa,  Hoary-leaved  Goldilocks.  9. 
XIX.  2.    Baccharis  halimifolia,  Groundsel-tree.  11. 
Tanacetum  Balsamita,  Costmary. 

Aster  elegans  cum  mult,  aliis.    Showy  Aster,  with  many  others.  10. 
Solidago  elliptica,  cum  mult,   aliis.     Oval-leaved  Golden-rod,   with 

many  others. 

Achillea  cristata,  cum  aliis.    Slender-branched  Milfoil,  with  others.  9. 
Imula  crithmifolia,  Golden  Samphire.  9. 
XIX.  3.     Helianthus  multiflorus,  cum   aliis.     Perennial  Sunflower, 

with  others.  10. 

Rudbeckia  laciniata,  Jagged-leaved  Rudbeckia.  9. 
Rudbeckia  digitata,  Narrow-leaved  Rudbeckia. 

Coreopsis  tripteris,  cum  aliis.    Three-leaved  Coreopsis,  with  others.  9. 
Centaurea  sonchifolia,  Sowthistle-leaved  Centaury. 
XIX.  4.    Silphium  terebinthinum,  Broad-leaved  Silphium. 
Polymnia  Canadensis,  Canada  Polymnia.  10. 
Iva  frutescens,  Shrubby  Iva. 
XXI.  4.    Urtica  nivea,  Snowy  Nettle.  9. 
XXI.  5.    Ambrosia  trifida,  Trifid-leaved  Ambrosia.  9. 
Ambrosia  elatior,  Tall  Ambrosia.  9. 
Ambrosia  artemisiafolia,  Wormwood-leaved  Ambrosia.  9. 
XXIV.  1.    Orodia  sensibilis,  Sensitive  Fern. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  1.  Order  I.     Salicornia  herbacea,  Common  Jointed  Glasswort. 

Locality,  muddy  sea-shore.     Duration,  9. 
III.  1.    Scirpus  pauciflorus,  cum  aliis.     Chocolate-headed  Clubrush, 

with  others.    Moors  and  mountains. 

III.  2.    Melica  coerulea,  Purple  Melic-grass.    Turfy  heaths. 
Spartina  stricta,  Twin-spiked  Cord-grass.    Muddy  sea-shore. 
Rottbollia  incurvata,  Sea  Hard-grass.     Salt-marshes. 

IV.  1.    Dipsacus  pilosus,  Small  Teasel.    Moist  shady  places.  9. 
Scabiosa  succisa,  Devil's-bit  Scabious.    Moist  pastures.  10. 


AUGUST.  255 

Plantago  maritima,  Sea  Plantain.    Sea-shore.  9. 

IV.  3.    Ruppia  maritima,  Sea  Ruppia.    Salt-water  ditches.  9. 

V.  1.    Campanula  hybrida,  Corn  Bell-flower.    Corn-fields. 

V.  1.  Phyteuma  orbiculare,  Round-headed  Rampion.  Chalky  pas- 
tures, rare,  9. 

Lobelia  urens,  Acrid  Lobelia.    Heaths,  Devon.  9. 

Verbascum  virgatum,  Large-flowered  Mullein.  Fields  and  waysides, 
rare. 

Erythraea  pulchella,  Dwarf  branched  Centaury.  Sandy  ground  near 
the  sea. 

V.  2.    Chenopodium   urbicum,  cum  aliis.     Upright  Goosefoot,  with 

others.     Gardens  and  fields.  9. 

Beta  maritima,  Sea  Beet.    Sea-coast. 

Cuscuta  Europsea,  Greater  Dodder.    On  thistles  and  nettles.  9. 

Cuscuta  Epithymum,  Lesser  Dodder.    On  heath  and  furze. 

Swertia  perennis,  Marsh  Felwort.    Alpine  meadows. 

Gentiana  Pneumonanthe,  Marsh  Gentian.    Moist  turfy  heaths.  9. 

Gentiana  nivalis,  Small  Alpine  Gentian.    Scotch  mountains. 

Gentiana  Amarella,  Autumnal  Gentian.     Limestone  pastures.  10. 

Sium  repens,  Creeping  Water  Parsnip.     Meadows  and  ditches. 

Sison  Amomum,  Hedge  Honewort.    Chalky  banks. 

Sison  segetum,  Corn  Honewort.     Moist  fields. 

Cicuta  virosa,  Water  Hemlock.    Ditches  and  ponds,  rare. 

Crithmum  maritimum,  Sea  Samphire.     Rocky  sea-coast. 

Apium  graveolens,  Wild  Celery.     Ditches  near  the  sea.  9. 

Cnidium  Silaus,  Meadow  Pepper  Saxifrage.  Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 9. 

VI.  1.    Juncus  maritimus,  Lesser  sharp  Sea-rush.    Salt  marshes. 
Juncus  biglumis,  Two-flowered  Sea-rush.    Bogs  in  the  Highlands. 
Juncus  obtusiflorus,  Blunt-flowered  Sea-rush.    Marshes. 

VI.  3.     Rumex  pulcher,  Fiddle  Dock.     Pastures. 

Rumex  maritimus,  Golden  Dock.     Ditches,  etc.  9. 

Alisma  ranunculoides,  Lesser  Water-Plantain.    Ditches  and  bogs.  9. 

X.  2.      Saxifraga   Hirculus,  Golden   Marsh-Saxifrage.     Turfy   bogs, 

very  rare. 

Saponaria  ollicinalis,  Common  Soapwort.     Meadows  and  banks.  9. 
Silene  roaritima,  Sea  Campion.     Rocks  by  the  sea.  10. 
Sedum  Telephiurn,  Orpine,  or  Live  Long.     Fields  and  banks.  9. 

XI.  1.     Lythrum  hyssopifolium,  Hyssop-leaved  Loosestrife.     Ditches, 
etc.  rare. 

XIII.  1.    Tilia  parvifolia,  Small-leaved  Lime-tree.    Woods. 


«»0  AUGUST. 

XIV.  1.    Mentha  sylvestris,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Horse  Mint,  with  many 

others.     Waste  watery  places.  9. 
Galeopsis    Ladanum,   Red    Hemp    Nettle.     Limestone   and    chalky 

fields.  9. 

Stachys  palustris,  Marsh  Woundwort.    Watery  places. 
Chenopodium  vulgare,  Common  Wild  Basil.     Bushy  places. 

XIV.  2.    Orobanche  ramosa,  Branched  Broom  rape.     Hemp-fields. 

XV.  1.     Alyssum  maritimum,  Sweet  Alyssum.     Cliffs  near  the  sea.  9. 
XV.  2.    Cardamine  bellidifolia,  Daisy-leaved  Lady's  Smock.    Alpine 

pastures. 

XV.  2.    Sinapis  muralis,  Sand  Mustard.    Barren  sea-coast.  9. 
XVII.  1.    Fumaria  parviflora,  Small-flowered  Fumitory.    Fields,  south 

of  England.  9. 

XVII.  3.     Ulexnanus,  Dwarf  Furze.    Dry  heaths.  9. 
Vicia  lutea,  Rough  podded  Yellow  Vetch.    Near  the  coast. 
XIX.  1.    Sonchus  arvensis,  Corn  Sowthistle.    Corn-fields. 
Lactuca  virosa,  Strong-scented  Lettuce.    Borders  of  fields,  etc.  9. 
Apargia  Taraxaci,  Dandelion  Hawk-bit.     Sotch  and  Welsh  moun- 


Apargia  autumnalis,  Autumnal  Hawk-bit.    Meadows  and  pastures. 

Hieracium  villosum,  cum  aliis.  Shaggy  Alpine  Hawkweed,  with 
others.  Alpine  rocks. 

Cnicus  eriophorus,  Woolly-headed  Plume  thistle.    Chalky  pastures. 

Cnicus  tuberosus,  Tuberous  Plume-thistle.    Wiltshire  Downs. 

Bidens  tripartita,  Three-lobed  Bur-marigold.    Watery  places. 

Chrysocoma  Linosyris,  Flax-leaved  Goldilocks.  Rocks  by  the  sea, 
rare.  9. 

Diotis  maritima,  Sea  Cotton-weed.    Sandy  sea-coast,  rare.  9. 

XIX.  2.  Artemisia  campestris,  Field  Southernwood.  Sandy  heaths, 
rare. 

Artemisia  Absinthium,  cum  aliis.  Common  Wormwood,  with  others. 
Waste  sandy  ground. 

Gnaphalium  margaritaceum,  cum  aliis.  American  Cudweed,  with 
others.  Banks  of  rivers. 

Aster  Tripolium,  Sea  Star-wort.     Sea-coast.  9. 

Inula  dysenterica,  Common  Flea-bane.     Moist  places. 

Pyrethrum  inodorum,  Corn  Feverfew.    Cultivated  Fields.  9. 

Anthemis  nobilis,  Common  Chamomile.    Gravelly  places.  9. 

Achillea  serrata,  Serrated  Yarrow.    Derbyshire. 

XIX.  3.  Centaurea  Jacea,  Brown  Radiant  Knapweed.  Moist  mea- 
dows. 9. 


AUGUST.  257 

XX.  1.    Neottia  spiralis,  Sweet  Ladies'  Traces.    Meadows  and  pas- 
tures. 

XXI.  1.     Euphorbia  Portlandica,  Portland  Spurge.  3 
Euphorbia  paralia  Sea  Spurge.  \  Sea-coast.  9. 
XXI.  3.    Urtica  dioica,  Great  Common  Nettle.    Hedges,  etc.  10. 
XXI.  4.      Xanthium   strumarium,    Broad-leaved    Bat-weed.      Moist 

ground,  rare.  9. 
Amaranthus  Blitum,  Wild  Amaranth.     Moist  ground.  9. 

XXIII.  1.     Atriplex  erecta,   Upright  spear-shaped  Orache.     Waste 
ground,  rare. 

Atriplex  littoralis,  Grass-leaved  Sea  Orache.  >  _ 
Atriplex  pedunculata,  Peduncled  Orache.       $ 

XXIV.  1.    Aspidium  cristatum,  Crested  Shield-fern.    Boggy  heaths. 
Lycopodium  Selaginoides,  Prickly  Club-moss.    Wet  mountains  and 

heaths.  9. 

Lycopodium   Alpinum,  Mountain  Club-moss.    Stony  mountains  and 
heaths. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Nebria  livida.    Coast  of  Yorkshire.    To  9. 

Callistus  lunatus.    Kent. 

Zabrus  gibbus.     Corn-fields. 

Geotrupes  sylvaticus,  Wood  Dor-Beetle.    Heaths. 

Ripiphorus  paradoxus.     Wasp  nests. 

Locusta  flavipes,  Yellow-legged  Locust. 

Acheta  campestris,  Field  Cricket.     Banks.    To  9. 

Colias  Europome,  The  Clouded  Sulphur  Butterfly.    Meadows  in  the 

south.    To  9. 
Vanessa   Antiope,    The    Camberwell    Beauty.      Willow    and   oaks. 

To  9. 

Vanessa  Atalanta,  The  Red  Admiral.    Gardens.    To  9. 
Cynthia  Cardui,  The  Painted  Lady.    Heaths  and  woods.    To  10. 
Hipparchia  Blandina,  Scotch  Argus.     Isle  of  Arran  and  Durham. 
Thecla  Betulae,  Brown  Hair-streak  Butterfly.     Birch  woods. 
Lycaena  Chryseis,  The  Purple-edged  Copper  Butterfly.     Epping  and 

Ashdown  Forests.     To  9. 

Lycsena  Virgaureae ,  The  Middle  Copper  Butterfly.     Isle  of  Ely. 
Pamphila  Comma,  The  Pearl  Skipper.    Heaths  and  downs.    To  9. 
Porthesia  auriflua,  Brown-tail  Moth.    Hedges. 

22* 


258  AUGUST. 

Ripiphorus  paradoxus.  This  curious  insect  is, 
I  believe,  invariably  found  in  the  nest  of  the  common 
wasp,  or  its  immediate  vicinity.  The  female  de- 
posits her  eggs  in  the  cells  of  the  wasp's  comb,  and 
leaves  them  to  be  fed,  protected,  and  reared  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  young  wasps.  This  curious 
proceeding  is  only  equalled  by  the  cuckoo,  who 
leaves  her  eggs  to  the  hedge-sparrow. 

In  this  part  of  the  country  there  are  few  wasp's- 
nests  without  one  or  more  of  this  insect,  if  the  cells 
be  carefully  examined. 

Locusta  (locusts  and  grasshoppers).  This  country 
is  only  occasionally  visited  by  the  devastating  mi- 
gratory locust  (Locusta  migratoria),  which,  with 
other  large  species  of  the  same  genus,  make  such 
tremendous  havoc  with  every  green  thing  in  more 
southern  latitudes.  The  smaller  species,  to  the  number 
of  more  than  twenty,  are  found  in  this  country,  and 
towards  the  end  of  the  summer  months  tend  to  en- 
liven by  their  chirpings  almost  every  heath  and  dry 
bank  in  the  kingdom.  Grasshoppers  were  held  in 
higher  estimation  by  the  Egyptians  and  Greeks  for 
their  musical  powers.  Kirby  and  Spence  contend 
that  these  were  Cicadas ;  but  if  we  are  to  believe 
certain  ancient  gems  in  the  Florentine  Gallery, 
they  were  clearly  of  the  genus  Locusta,  to  which 
our  grasshoppers  belong ;  and  this  fact  is  confirmed 
by  Kirby  and  Spence  themselves,  in  vol.  ii.  page  401, 
where  they  inform  us,  that  in  Spain  "  people  of 
fashion  keep  these  animals — called  there  Grillo — in 


AUGUST.  259 

cages,  which  they  name  Grilleria,  for  the  sake  of 
their  song." 

They  add,  that— "  Tettigonia,  F.,  called  by  the 
Ancient  Greeks — by  whom  they  were  often  kept  in 
cages  for  the  sake  of  their  song — Tettix,  seem  to  have 
been  the  favourites  of  every  Grecian  bard,  from 
Homer  and  Hesiod  to  Anacreon  and  Theocritus — 
supposed  to  be  perfectly  harmless,  and  to  live  only  upon 
dew ;  they  were  addressed  by  the  most  endearing  epi- 
thets, and  were  regarded  as  all  but  divine.  One  bard 
entreats  the  shepherds  to  spare  the  innoxious  Tettix, 
that  nightingale  of  the  nymphs,  and  to  make  those 
mischievous  birds,  the  thrush  and  blackbird,  their 
prey.  *  Sweet  prophet  of  the  summer/  says  Ana- 
creon, addressing  this  insect,  *  the  Muses  love  thee ; 
Phoabus  himself  loves  thee,  and  has  given  thee  a 
shrill  song ;  old  age  does  not  wear  thee ;  thou  art 
wise,  earth-born,  musical,  impassive,  without  blood  ; 
thou  art  almost  like  a  god.'  So  attached  were  the 
Athenians  to  these  insects,  that  they  were  accustomed 
to  fasten  golden  images  of  them  in  their  hair,  imply- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  a  boast  that  they  themselves, 
as  well  as  the  Cicadas,  were  Terras  filii.  They  were 
regarded  indeed  by  all  as  the  happiest  as  well  as  the 
most  innocent  of  animals — not,  we  will  suppose,  for 
the  reason  given  by  the  saucy  Rhodian  Xenarchus, 
when  he  says, 


Happy  the  Cicadas'  lives, 

Since  they  all  have  voiceless  wives.' 


AUGUST. 


"  If  the  Grecian  Tettix,  or  Cicada,  had  been  dis- 
tinguished by  a  harsh  and  deafening  note,  like  those 
of  some  other  countries,  it  would  hardly  have  been 
an  object  of  such  affection.  That  it  was  not,  is 
clearly  proved  by  the  connexion  which  was  sup- 
posed to  exist  between  it  and  music.  Thus  the  sound 
of  this  insect  and  of  the  harp  were  called  by  one 
and  the  same  name.  A  Cicada,  sitting  upon  a  harp, 
was  a  usual  emblem  of  the  science  of  music,  which 
was  thus  accounted  for : — '  When  two  rival  musi- 
cians, Eunomus  and  Ariston,  were  contending  upon 
that  instrument,  a  Cicada,  flying  to  the  former,  and 
sitting  upon  his  harp,  supplied  the  place  of  a  broken 
string,  and  so  secured  to  him  the  victory.'  " 

As  far  as  it  is  at  present  known  respecting  the 
vocal  powers  of  the  Cicada3  and  the  Locustce,  it  ap- 
pears that  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  quotation  will 
more  strictly  apply  to  the  latter  than  to  the  former ; 
but  if  it  can  be  clearly  shown,  on  equal  authority 
with  these  Gems,  that  the  Grecian  Tettix  is  the 
Cicada,  or  Tettigonia,  of  modern  entomologists,  it 
will  follow  that  the  Greeks  were  in  the  habit  of  in- 
cluding both  families  under  the  same  appellation. 
See  Plate  96,  of  Engravings  of  Gems  from  the 
Florentine  Gallery ;  or  a  copy  in  the  Continued 
Appendix  to  Calmet's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible, 
page  77. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS. 

BY  MARY  HOWITT. 
III. 

AUTUMN. 

ARISE,  thou  child  of  Nature,  rise  ! 

Arouse  thy  slumbering  spirit  now  ! 
The  Autumn  sheaves  are  on  the  hill, 
And  solemn  are  the  woods  and  still, 

With  clustering  fruits  on  every  bough. 

There's  merry  laughter  in  the  field, 

And  harmless  jest  and  frolic  rout ; 
And  the  last  harvest- wain  goes  by 
With  its  rustling  load  so  pleasantly 

To  the  glad  and  clamorous  harvest  shout. 

There  are  busy  gleaners  in  the  field — 
The  old,  whose  work  is  never  done, 
And  eager,  laughing  childish  bands, 
Rubbing  the  ears  in  their  little  hands, 
And  singing  'neath  the  autumn  sun. 

There  are  peasants  in  the  hamlets  low, 

Busied  among  their  orchard-trees, 
Where  the  pleasant  apples  are  red  and  gold, 
Like  token-fruits  of  those  of  old, 
In  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides. 


262  AUTUMN. 

And  boys  are  busy  in  the  woods, 

Gathering  the  ripe  nuts,  bright  and  brown 
In  shady  lanes  the  children  stray 
Looking  for  blackberries  through  the  day, 
Those  berries  of  such  old  renown ! 

— Gray  mists  at  morn  brood  o'er  the  earth, 

Shadowy  as  those  on  northern  seas : 
The  gossamer's  filmy  work  is  done, 
Like  a  web  by  moonlight  fairies  spun, 
And  left  to  whiten  in  the  breeze. 

The  sun  bursts  forth— the  distant  hills 
Shine  out,  and  splendid  is  the  day — 

A  sombre  radiance  crowns  each  tree, 

A  fading  glory  solemnly 

Hangs  on  each  leaf  in  its  decay ; 

Go  to  the  silent  autumn  woods  ! 

There  has  gone  forth  a  spirit  stern ; 
Its  wing  has  waved  in  triumph  here, 
The  Spring's  green  tender  leaf  is  sere, 

And  withering  hangs  the  summer  fern. 

Now  to  the  mountains  turn  thine  eye, — 

How  shine  they  through  the  burnish'd  air  ! 
The  little  flocks  like  drifts  of  snow, 
The  shepherd's  sheilings  gray  and  low, 
Thou  seest  them  in  their  beauty  there. 

— Oh  to  lie  down  in  wilds  apart, 

Where  man  is  seldom  seen  or  heard  ; 
In  still  and  ancient  forests,  where 
Mows  not  his  scythe,  ploughs  not  his  share, 
With  the  shy  deer  and  cooing  bird ! 


AUTUMN.  263 

To  go,  in  dreaminess  of  mood, 

O'er  a  lone  heath,  that  spreads  around 

A  solitude  like  a  silent  sea, 

Where  rises  not  a  hut  or  tree, 

The  wide-embracing  sky  its  bound ! 

Oh  !  beautiful  those  wastes  of  heath, 

Stretching  for  miles  to  lure  the  bee, 
Where  the  wild-bird,  on  pinion  strong, 
Wheels  round  and  pours  his  piping  song, 

And  timid  creatures  wander  free. 

— Far  sails  the  thistle's  hoary  down ; 

All  summer  flowers  have  passed  away — 
This  is  the  appointed  time  for  seed, 
From  the  forest-oak  to  the  meanest  weed, 

A  time  of  gathering  and  decay. 

But  go  not  to  the  autumn  hills, 

Stand  not  beneath  the  autumn  trees, 
If  thy  unchasten'd  spirit  brook 
No  warning  voice,  no  stern  rebuke, 

For  thy  life's  ceaseless  vanities ! 

Now  lift  thine  eyes,  weak  child  of  pride, 

And  lo !  behold  yon  branching  pine, 
Broad,  red,  and  like  a  burning  sun, 
Comes  up  the  glorious  autumn  moon, 

God's  creature,  like  a  thing  divine ! 

It  is  not,  as  our  childhood  deem'd 

The  nightly  moon,  a  silver  shield 
Borne  on  some  viewless  warrior's  breast 
In  battle  from  the  east  to  west, 

Along  the  blue  ethereal  field. 


264  AUTUMN. 

Oh  high  magnificence  of  eve  ! 

Thus  silent  in  thy  pomp  of  light, 
A  world  self-balanced  thou  appearest, — 
An  ark  of  fire,  thou  onward  steerest 

Thy  upward,  glorious  course  aright ! 

The  peasant  stands  beside  his  door, 
To  mark  thee  in  thy  bright  ascent ; 

The  village  matron  'neath  her  tree, 

Sits  in  her  simple  piety, 

Gazing  in  silent  wonderment. 

'Tis  well  when  aught  can  wake  the  heart 
To  love  and  faith  whose  trust  is  right  I 
'Tis  well  when  the  soul  is  not  seared, 
And"  the  low  whisper  can  be  heard 

That  breathes  through  nature  day  and  night ! 


SEPTEMBER. 


He  causeth  the  grass  to  grow  for  the  cattle ,  and  herb  for  the  service 
of  man,  that  he  may  bring  forth  food  out  of  the  earth. 

And  wine  that  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man,  and  oil  to  make  his 
face  to  shine,  and  bread  which  strengtheneth  man's  heart. 

PSALMS  civ.  14,  15. 


THE  last  month  commenced  with  corn-harvest, 
this  commences  with  the  harvest  of  death.  On  the 
1st  of  September  partridge-shooting  commences. 
Sportsmen  have  been  busy  seeing  their  dogs,  guns, 
and  ammunition  put  in  preparation.  As  the  day 
has  approached,  the  spirit  of  anticipation  has  be- 
come vivid  and  anxious.  Many  a  time  have  they 
reconnoitred,  till  they  know  to  a  rood  where  every 
covey  in  the  neighbourhood  lies,  and  of  what  num- 
ber it  consists.  Many  a  time  have  they  planned 
their  first  day's  route,  and  enjoyed  in  imagination 
their  sport.  Little  has  been  the  sleep  of  the  last 
night.  They  have  been  up  at  the  window  re- 
peatedly, to  look  for  the  first  streak  of  dawn,  and 
have  actually  taken  the  field  ere  it  is  half  light. 
The  dogs  are  as  impatient  as  their  masters ;  whin- 
ing and  fawning,  and  endeavouring  to  the  best  of 
23 


266  SEPTEMBER. 

their  ability  to  tempt  them  abroad ;  and  now  that 
their  kennel  door  is  thrown  open,  with  what  a  bound 
of  joy  they  spring  forth  !  They  cry,  they  howl, 
they  plunge  and  gallop  to  and  fro  in  the  wildness 
of  their  exultation ;  and  the  best  trained  are  for  a 
time  incapable  of  preserving  decorum.  Perhaps 
there  are  no  men  who  follow  their  pursuits  with 
such  gusto  as  sportsmen.  All  the  stimulating  influ- 
ence of  chase  and  achievement,  of  discovery  and 
possession,  are  theirs : 

And  oh !  what  a  soul  of  delight  is  there 
As  they  rush  in  the  strength  of  the  desert  air ! 
In  the  bounding  limb,  in  the  glorying  flow 
Of  spirits  in  healthful  hearts  that  glow ! 

And  to  these  we  may  add,  the  influence  of  the 
scenes  into  which  their  object  carries  them, 

For  there  is  transport  in  the  chase  ; 

And  there  is  joyance  in  the  sport 
Of  field  and  forest,  and  each  place 

Where  the  wild  game-broods  make  resort, 
The  sedgy  stream  and  bowery  spring. 

Perhaps  to  many  it  may  appear  apocryphal  that 
the  sportsman  is  sensible  of  such  refined  influences, 
but  on  this  head  I  am  positive.  The  philosophical 
inquirer  is  aware  how  many  causes  are  combined 
in  the  production  of  our  most  ordinary  pleasures, 
and,  among  the  numerous  sources  of  a  sportsman's 
enjoyment,  the  influence  of  natural  beauty  is  one 
of  the  most  efficient.  It  may  not  be  very  apparent ; 


SEPTEMBER.  267 

in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it  may  even  be  unknown 
to  the  man  himself,  yet  it  is  hot  the  less  true ;  the 
love  of  Nature,  and  the  silent  apprehension  of  her 
beauty,  is  a  freely-bestowed  and  far-spreading  gift. 
It  lives  in  the  least  cultured  heart,  as  the  beautiful 
wild-flower  in  the  unploughed  heath.  It  lives,  often 
a  pleasant  though  unperceived  guest.  It  spreads 
the  charm  of  its  influence  when  its  possessor  has 
not  even  a  name  for  it;  yet  still  it  lives, —  and  they 
who  cannot  talk  of  it,  yet  feel  it  in  its  sweetness 
and  its  power.  The  sportsman  seldom  analyses 
his  own  feelings ;  he  cares  not  to  inquire  into  the 
causes  of  his  taste  and  his  gratification ;  but  those 
causes  exist  in  the  secret  of  his  heart,  and  he 
follows  their  delightful  impulse  with  joy.  Ask  a 
sportsman  if  he  be  an  admirer  of  nature, — he  has 
perhaps  never  thought  of  the  subject ;  but  the 
moment  he  goes  forth,  he  gives  a  practical  testi- 
mony of  his  attachment.  Whither  does  he  go? 
To  the  free  and  fresh  air,  to  the  solitude  of  the 
heath  and  the  mountain,  to  dells  and  copses,  where 
his  fine  dogs  plunge  amid  the  red  fern  and  the  fading 
leaves,  and  the  pheasant,  the  partridge,  the  hare, 
start  forth  in  their  wild  beauty ;  where  the  tall,  dry 
grass,  and  the  autumnal  tree  fill  the  soul  with  their 
richness — to  the  clear  and  tinkling  stream  that 
stretches  on  alternately  through  the  bowery  brake, 
the  obscurity  of  the  wood,  and  the  riant  sunshine 
of  open  fields.  Is  it  merely  the  possession  of  his 
game  that  delights  him  here  ?  The  enthusiasm 
with  which  he  dwells  on  a  sketch  of  Landseer's, 


268  SEPTEMBER. 

which  merely  pictures  the  same  thing  to  his  eye, 
is  a  sufficient  refutation  of  such  a  notion.  His 
every-day  actions  and  words  are  denials  of  it. 
He  couches  down  for  a  momentary  rest  on  the  hill- 
side, where  the  country  opens  before  him  in  picto- 
rial loveliness.  He  flies  from  the  pelting  shower  to 
the  hut  or  tree,  and  recounts  at  eve  by  his  own  fire- 
side, with  his  dogs  basking  on  the  hearth  before 
him,  his  whole  day's  round  of  adventure,  with  every 
outward  expression  of  enthusiasm,  with  such  happy 
and  picturesque  phrases,  as  often  make  the  places 
he  speaks  of  rise  up  before  you,  and  with  an  inward 
glow  of  happiness  that  exclaims  to  itself  "  This  is 
life  I"  I  know  that  such  are  his  feelings,  and  there- 
fore, notwithstanding  that  his  pursuit  cannot  be 
totally  exempt  from  the  charge  of  cruelty,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  sympathise  with  him.  Yet,  to 
my  thinking,  shooting  is,  of  all  field-sports,  the  least 
cruel ;  the  brutal  mind  will  exhibit  its  ferocity  in 
every  thing,  and  in  nothing  has  that  brutality  been 
more  evinced  than  in  that  wholesale  butchery  which 
many  gentlemen  have,  of  late  years,  thought  fit  to 
boast  of  in  the  newspapers,  deeming  it  an  honour 
to  slaughter  some  hundred  brace  of  birds  in  a  day; 
but  the  humane  and  practised  sportsman,  led  on, 
not  by  a  blood-thirstiness  worthy  of  a  Cossack, 
nor  by  vanity  worthy  of  an  idiot,  nor  by  the  plea- 
sure of  seeing  an  unfortunate  animal  run  gasping 
before  the  jaws  of  his  enemies,  and  suffer  at  every 
step  a  death  of  fear,  but  by  the  desire  of  a  healthful 
recreation,  will  single  out  his  victim  and  destroy  it 


SEPTEMBER.  269 

in  a  moment.     The  shooter  in  truth  enjoys  to  the 
utmost  what  is  here  said  of 


THE  HUNTER. 

High  life  for  a  hunter !  he  meets  on  the  hill 

The  new-waken'd  daylight,  so  bright  and  so  still; 

And  feels,  as  the  clouds  of  the  morning  unroll, 

The  silence,  the  splendour,  ennoble  his  soul. 

'Tis  his  on  the  mountains  to  stalk  like  a  ghost, 

Enshrouded  in  mist,  in  which  nature  is  lost, 

Till  he  lifts  up  his  eyes,  and  flood,  valley  and  height, 

In  one  moment  all  swim  in  one  ocean  of  light ; 

While  the  sun,  like  a  glorious  banner  unfurl'd, 

Seems  to  wave  o'er  a  new,  more  magnificent  world. 

'Tis  his,  by  the  mouth  of  some  cavern  his  seat, 

The  lightning  of  heaven  to  behold  at  his  feet, 

While  the  thunder  below  him  that  growls  from  the  cloud 

To  him  comes  in  echo  more  awfully  loud. 

When  the  clear  depth  of  noontide  with  glittering  motion 

O'erflows  the  lone  glens,  an  aerial  ocean ; 

When  the  earth  and  the  heavens,  in  union  profound, 

Lie  blended  in  beauty  that  knows  not  a  sound. 

As  his  eyes  in  the  sunshiny  solitude  close, 

'Neath  a  rock  of  the  desert  in  dreamy  repose, 

He  sees  in  his  slumbers  such  visions  of  old 

As  wild  Gaelic  songs  to  his  infancy  told, 

O'er  the  mountains  a  thousand  plumed  hunters  are  borne, 

And  he  starts  from  his  dream  at  the  blast  of  the  horn. 

WILSON. 

But  let  us  leave  the  'sportsman  for  the  general 
aspect  of  nature,  which  is  now  decidedly  autumnal. 
The  trees  are  beginning  to  change  colour ;  the 
orchards  are  affluent  of  pears,  plums,  and  apples ; 
and  the  hedges  are  filled  with  the  abundance  of  their 
23* 


270  SEPTEMBER. 

wild  produce,  crabs,  black  glossy  clusters  of  privet, 
buckthorn,  and  elderberries  which  furnish  the  farmer 
with  a  cordial  cup  on  his  return  from  market  on  a 
winter's  eve,  and  blackberries,  reminding  us  of  the 
Babes  in  the  Wood. 

Their  little  hands  and  pretty  lips 

With  blackberries  were  dyed  ; 
And  when  they  saw  the  darksome  night, 

They  sat  them  down  and  cried. 

The  hedgerows  are  also  brightened  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  scarlet  berries  of  hips,  haws,  honeysuckles, 
viburnum,  and  bryony.  The  fruit  of  the  mountain- 
ash,  woody-nightshade,  and  wild-service  is  truly 
beautiful ;  nor  are  the  violet-hued  sloes  and  bullaces, 
or  the  crimson,  mossy  excrescences  of  the  wild  rose- 
tree,  insignificant  objects  amid  the  autumnal  splen- 
dours of  the  waning  year. 

Notwithstanding  the  decrease  of  the  day,  the 
weather  of  this  month  is,  for  the  most  part,  splen- 
didly calm ;  and  nature,  who  knows  the  most 
favourable  moment  to  display  all  her  works,  has 
now  instructed  the  geometric  spider  to  form  its 
radiated  circle  on  every  bush,  and  the  gossamer 
spider  to  hang  its  silken  threads  on  every  blade  of 
grass.  We  behold  innumerable  filaments  glittering 
with  dew  in  the  morning ;  and  sometimes,  such  is 
the  immense  quantity  of  this  secretion,  that  it  may 
be  seen,  floating  in  a  profusion  of  tangled  webs  in 
the  air,  and  covering  our  clothes,  as  we  walk  in  the 
fields,  as  with  cotton.  These  little  creatures,  the 


SEPTEMBER.  271 

gossamer  spiders,  it  has  long  been  known,  have  the 
faculty  of  throwing  out  several  of  their  threads  on 
each  side,  which  serve  them  as  a  balloon  to  buoy 
them  up  into  the  air.  With  these  they  sail  into  the 
higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  or  return  with 
great  velocity.  By  recent  experiments,  it  appears 
that  the  spider  and  its  web  are  not,  as  it  was  sup- 
posed, of  less  specific  gravity  than  the  air,  and  by 
that  means  ascend.  The  phenomenon  has  been 
supposed  to  be  electrical,  but  this  is  doubtful :  it  yet 
requires  explanation. 

There  is  now  a  brightness  of  the  sky,  and  a 
diaphanous  purity  of  the  atmosphere,  at  once  sur- 
prising and  delightful.  We  remark  with  astonish- 
ment how  perfectly  and  distinctly  the  whole  of  the 
most  extensive  landscape  lies  in  varied,  solemn 
beaqty  before  us ;  while,  such  is  the  reposing  still- 
ness of  nature,  that  not  a  sound  disturbs  the  sunny 
solitude,  save  perhaps  the  clapping  of  pigeon's  wings 
as  they  rise  from  the  stubbles.  The  clearness  of 
vision  may  partly  arise  from  the  paucity  of  vapour 
ascending  from  the  ground  at  this  dry  season,  and 
partly  from  the  eye  being  relieved  from  the  intensity 
of  splendour  with  which  it  is  oppressed  in  summer; 
but  be  it  what  it  may,  the  fact  has  not  escaped  one 
of  our  most  beautiful  poets. 

There  is  a  harmony 
In  autumn,  and  a  lustre  in  its  sky, 
Which  through  the  summer  is  not  heard  nor  seen, 
As  if  it  could  not  be,  as  if  it  had  not  been. 


27*2  SEPTEMBER. 

Now  it  is  delightful  among  mountains.  Moun- 
tains !  how  one's  heart  leaps  at  the  very  word ! 
There  is  a  charm  connected  with  mountains  so 
powerful,  that  the  merest  mention  of  them,  the 
merest  sketch  of  their  magnificent  features,  kindles 
the  imagination,  and  carries  the  spirit  at  once  into 
the  bosom  of  their  enchanted  regions.  How  the 
mind  is  filled  with  their  vast  solitude !  how  the 
inward  eye  is  fixed  on  their  silent,  their  sublime, 
their  everlasting  peaks  !  How  our  heart  bounds  to 
the  music  of  their  solitary  cries,  to  the  tinkle  of  their 
gushing  rills,  to  the  sound  of  their  cataracts !  How 
inspiriting  are  the  odours  that  breathe  from  the 
upland  turf,  from  the  rock-hung  flower,  from  the 
hoary  and  solemn  pine !  how  beautiful  are  those 
lights  and  shadows  thrown  abroad,  and  that  fine 
transparent  haze  which  is  diffused  over  the  valleys 
and  lower  slopes,  as  over  a  vast,  inimitable  picture ! 

At  this  season  of  the  year  the  ascents  of  our  own 
mountains  are  become  most  practicable.  The  heat 
of  summer  has  dried  up  the  moisture  with  which 
winter  rains  saturate  the  spongy  turf  of  the  hollows ; 
and  the  atmosphere,  clear  and  settled,  admits  of 
the  most  extensive  prospects.  Whoever  has  not 
ascended  our  mountains,  knows  little  of  the  beauties 
of  this  beautiful  island.  Whoever  has  not  climbed 
their  long  and  heathy  ascents,  and  seen  the  trembling 
mountain-flowers,  the  glowing  moss,  the  richly  tinted 
lichens  at  his  feet ;  and  scented  the  fresh  aroma  of 
the  uncultivated  sod,  and  of  the  spicy  shrubs ;  and 


SEPTEMBER.  273 

heard  the  bleat  of  the  flock  across  their  solitary  ex- 
panses, and  the  wild  cry  of  the  mountain-plover,  the 
raven,  or  the  eagle ;  and  seen  the  rich  and  russet 
hues  of  distant  slopes  and  eminences,  the  livid 
gashes  of  ravines  and  precipices,  the  white  glittering 
line  of  falling  waters,  and  the  cloud  tumultuously 
whirling  round  the  lofty  summit ;  and  then  stood 
panting  on  that  summit,  and  beheld  the  clouds 
alternately  gather  and  break  over  a  thousand  giant 
peaks  and  ridges  of  every  varied  hue, — but  all  silent 
as  images  of  eternity;  and  cast  his  gaze  over  lakes 
and  forests,  and  smoking  towns,  and  wide  lands  to 
the  very  ocean,  in  all  their  gleaming  and  reposing 
beauty; — knows  nothing  of  the  treasures  of  pictorial 
wealth  which  his  own  country  possesses. 

But  when  we  let  loose  the  imagination  from  even 
these  splendid  scenes,  and  give  it  free  charter  to 
range  through  the  far  more  glorious  ridges  of  con- 
tinental mountains,  through  Alps,  Apennines,  or 
Andes,  how  is  it  possessed  and  absorbed  by  all  the 
awful  magnificence  of  their  scenery  and  character  ! 
The  sky-ward  and  inaccessible  pinnacles,  the 

Palaces  where  nature  thrones 
Sublimity  in  icy  halls ! 

the  dark  Alpine  forests,  the  savage  rocks  and  pre- 
cipices, the  fearful  and  unfathomable  chasms  filled 
with  the  sound  of  ever-precipitating  waters;  the 
cloud,  the  silence,  the  avalanche,  the  cavernous 
gloom,  the  terrible  visitations  of  Heaven's  con- 


274  SEPTEMBER. 

centrated  lightning,  darkness  and  thunder ;  or  the 
sweeter  features  of  living,  rushing  streams,  spicy 
odours  of  flower  and  shrub,  fresh  spirit-elating 
breezes  sounding  through  the  dark  pine  grove ;  the 
ever-varying  lights  and  shadows,  and  aerial  hues  ; 
the  wide  prospects,  and,  above  all,  the  simple 
inhabitants ! 

We  delight  to  think  of  the  people  of  mountainous 
regions ;  we  please  our  imaginations  with  their  pic- 
turesque and  quiet  abodes ;  with  their  peaceful 
secluded  lives,  striking  and  unvarying  costumes* 
and  primitive  manners. 

We  involuntarily  give  to  the  mountaineer  heroic 
and  elevated  qualities.  He  lives  amongst  noble 
objects  and  must  imbibe  some  of  their  nobility ;  he 
lives  amongst  the  elements  of  poetry,  and  must  be 
poetical ;  he  lives  where  his  fellow-beings  are  far, 
far  separated  from  their  kind,  and  surrounded  by 
the  sternness  and  perils  of  savage  nature;  his  social 
affections  must  therefore  be  proportionably  concen- 
trated, his  home-ties  lively  and  strong ;  but,  more 
than  all,  he  lives  within  the  barriers,  the  strong- 
holds, the  very  last  refuge  which  Nature  herself  has 
reared  to  preserve  alive  liberty  in  the  earth,  to 
preserve  to  man  his  highest  hopes,  his  noblest 
emotions,  his  dearest  treasures,  his  faith,  his  free- 
dom, his  hearth  and  his  home.  How  glorious  do 
those  mountain-ridges  appear  when  we  look  upon 
them  as  the  unconquerable  abodes  of  free  hearts ; 
as  the  stern,  heaven-built  walls  from  which  the  few, 
the  feeble,  the  persecuted,  the  despised,  the  helpless 


SEPTEMBER.  275 

child,  the  delicate  woman,  have  from  age  to  age, 
in  their  last  perils,  in  all  their  weaknesses  and 
emergencies,  when  power  and  cruelty  were  ready 
to  swallow  them  up,  looked  down  and  beheld  the 
million  waves  of  despotism  break  at  their  feet : — 
have  seen  the  rage  of  murderous  armies,  and 
tyrants,  the  blasting  spirit  of  ambition,  fanaticism, 
and  crushing  domination  recoil  from  their  bases  in 
despair ! — "  Thanks  be  to  God  for  mountains !"  is 
often  the  exclamation  of  my  heart  as  I  trace  the 
History  of  the  World.  From  age  to  age,  they 
have  been  the  last  friends  of  man.  In  a  thousand 
extremities  they  have  saved  him.  What  great, 
hearts  have  throbbed  in  their  defiles  from  the  days 
of  Leonidas  to  those  of  Andreas  Hofer!  What 
lofty  souls,  what  tender  hearts,  what  poor  and  per- 
secuted creatures  have  they  sheltered  in  their  stony 
bosoms  from  the  weapons  and  tortures  of  their 
fellow-men ! 

* 

Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 
Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold  1 

was  the  burning  exclamation  of  Milton's  agonized 
and  indignant  spirit,  as  he  beheld  those  sacred  bul- 
warks of  freedom  for  once  violated  by  the  disturb- 
ing demons  of  the  earth ;  and  the  sound  of  his  fiery 
and  lamenting  appeal  to  Heaven  will  be  echoed  in 
every  generous  soul  to  the  end  of  time. 

Thanks  be  to  God  for  mountains !     The  variety 
which  they  impart  to  the  glorious  bosom  of  our 


276 


SEPTEMBER. 


planet  were  no  small  advantage ;  the  beauty  which 
they  spread  out  to  our  vision  in  their  woods  and 
waters,  their  crags  and  slopes,  their  clouds  and 
atmospheric  hues,  were  a  splendid  gift ;  the  sub- 
limity which  they  pour  into  our  deepest  souls  from 
their  majestic  aspects ;  the  poetry  which  breathes 
from  their  streams,  and  dells,  and  airy  heights,  from 
the  sweet  abodes,  the  garbs  and  manners  of  their 
inhabitants,  the  songs  and  legends  which  have 
awoke  in  them,  were  a  proud  heritage  to  imagina- 
tive minds ;  but  what  are  all  these  when  the  thought 
comes,  that  without  mountains  the  spirit  of  man 
must  have  bowed  to  the  brutal  and  the  base,  and 
probably  have  sunk  to  the  monotonous  level  of  the 
unvaried  plain  ? 

When  I  turn  my  eyes  upon  the  map  of  the  world, 
and  behold  how  wonderfully  the  countries  where 
our  faith  was  nurtured,  where  our  liberties  were 
generated,  where  our  philosophy  and  literature,  the 
fountains  of  our  intellectual  grace  and  beauty, 
sprang  up,  were  as  distinctly  walled  out  by  God's 
hand  with  mountain  ramparts  from  the  irruptions 
and  interruptions  of  barbarism,  as  if  at  the  especial 
prayer  of  the  early  fathers  of  man's  destinies,  I  am 
lost  in  an  exulting  admiration.  Look  at  the  bold 
barriers  of  Palestine  !  see  how  the  infant  liberties 
of  Greece  were  sheltered  from  the  vast  tribes  of 
the  uncivilized  North  by  the  heights  of  Haemus  and 
Rhodope !  behold  how  the  Alps  describe  their 
magnificent  crescent,  inclining  their  opposite  extre- 
mities to  the  Adriatic  and  Tyrrhene  Seas,  locking 


SEPTEMBER.  277 

up  Italy  from  the  Gallic  and  Teutonic  hordes  till 
the  power  and  spirit  of  Rome  had  reached  their 
maturity,  and  she  had  opened  the  wide  forest  of 
Europe  to  the  light,  spread  far  her  laws  and  lan- 
guage, and  planted  the  seeds  of  many  mighty 
nations  ! 

Thanks  to  God  for  mountains !  Their  colossal 
firmness  seems  almost  to  break  the  current  of  time 
itself;  the  geologist  in  them  searches  for  traces  of 
the  earlier  world,  and  it  is  there  too  that  man, 
resisting  the  revolutions  of  lower  regions,  retains 
through  innumerable  years  his  habits  and  his  rights. 
While  a  multitude  of  changes  has  remoulded  the 
people  of  Europe, — while  languages,  and  laws,  and 
dynasties,  and  creeds,  have  passed  over  it  like 
shadows  over  the  landscape, — the  children  of  the 
Celt  and  the  Goth,  who  fled  to  the  mountains  a 
thousand  years  ago,  are  found  there  now,  and  show 
us  in  face  and  figure,  in  language  and  garb,  what 
their  fathers  were;  show  us  a  fine  contrast  with 
the  modern  tribes  dwelling  below  and  around  them;, 
and  show  us,  moreover,  how  adverse  is  the  spirit  of 
the  mountain  to  mutability,  and  that  there  the  fiery 
heart  of  Freedom  is  found  for  ever. 

And  woods  too !  Pleasant  is  it  at  all  times  to 
wander  in  woods, 

Where  there's  neither  suit  nor  plea, 
But  only  the  wild  creatures  and  many  a  spreading  tree  : 

especially  pleasant  is  it  at  this  season, — their  tenv 
24 


278  SEPTEMBER. 

pered  gloom,  their  silence,  the  wild  cries  that  flit 
ever  and  anon  through  them,  the  leaves  which 
already  rustle  to  the  tread,  all  is  full  of  a  thoughtful 
pleasantness.  And  then  those  breaks ;  those  open- 
ings, those  sudden  emergings  from  shadow  and 
silence  to  light  and  liberty ;  those  unexpected 
comings  out  to  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  or  to  some 
wild  and  heathy  tract  in  the  very  depth  of  the 
woodlands  !  How  pleasant  is  the  thought  of  it !  I 
feel  the  fresh-blowing  breeze  of  autumn,  I  scent  the 
fresh  odour  of  the  turf  which  never  was  cultivated, 
I  feel  its  elasticity  beneath  my  tread,  and  rejoice  as 
I  behold  on  its  lonely  bosom  a  few  loiterers  which 
remain  of  all  summer's  flowery  tribes ;  a  solitary 
honeysuckle  on  some  young  birch;  a  few  hare- 
bells, bright  and  blue  as  summer  skies.  The  rich 
crimson  flush  of  forest  ground, 

Where  myriad  heath-flowers  congregated  bloom, 

is  fast  fading  away :  the  fern  is  assuming  its  russet 
hue;  docks  lift  their  ruddy  and  full-seeded  heads; 
thistles  stand  covered  with  down,  like  a  foam,  ready 
at  the  lightest  breeze  to  float  away  to  a  thousand 
places  ;  and  the  grass  of  Parnassus  crowns  the  silent 
waste  with  its  pure  and  classic  beauty.  And  who 
that  has  lived  or  sojourned  any  part  of  his  youth  in 
the  country  has  not  some  delicious  remembrances 
connected  with  Nutting?  For  me,  those  dim  and 
vast  woods,  whither  our  good  schoolmaster  con- 
ducted his  jolly  troop  of  boys  once  in  the  season — 


SEPTEMBER.  279 

those   rustling  boughs  amongst  which  we  rushed 
and    plunged   with  the    rapturous    impetuosity   of 
young  deer — those  clusters  which  tempted  us  to 
climb,  or  to  crash  down  the  tree  that  bore  them, 
like  many  other  ambitious  mortals  destroying  to 
possess — those  brown-shellers  which  came  pattering 
down  upon  our  heads — our  dinner  a  la  gipsy,  and 
our    triumphant    march    home   with    our    loaded 
satchels,  these  were  not  merely  enjoyed  one  day, 
they  have  filled  us  on  a  hundred  different  occasions 
with  felicitous  reflections  !    I  love  a  day's  excursion 
into  the  woods  with  a  choice  party  with  all  my  soul. 
Not  as  many  attempt  the  matter  when  they  would 
be  exceedingly  Arcadian — not  a  formal  and  formi- 
dable Filleggiatura,  an  invasion  of  the  silent  woods 
with  gigs  and  post-chaises ;  startling  the  creatures 
of  solitude  with  the  flash  of  scarfs,  ribbons  and 
parasols,  with  their  cloth  as  ceremoniously  spread 
as  for  a  city  feast,  their  cold  collations  arranged  by 
conceited  livery-servants,  their  breaking  of  bottles 
and  obstreperous  merriment ;  but  with  souls  familiar 
with  the  mysteries  and  spirit  of  Nature,  their  simple 
repast  spread  under  the  green  boughs  by  fair  hands, 
and  partaken  with  light  and  merry  hearts  prepared 
to   enjoy  all  that  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  the 
scene  may  pour  into  their  bosoms,  and  what  their 
own   social   natures  will  abundantly  afford  them. 
With  such  I  have,  in  past  years,  enjoyed  to  perfec- 
tion the  luxury  of  a  Nutting  expedition,  and  I  recur 
to  the  memory  of  it  with  double  interest  now  that 


280  SEPTEMBER. 

some  of  the  partners  of  my  pleasure  are  sleeping  in 
the  dust. 

Few  indeed  are  the  pleasures  of  rural  life  that 
can  surpass  the  enjoyment  of  Nutting;  and  nuts 
are  now  ripe  in  the  woods.  Hops  are  gathered  in 
this  month,  as  well  as  in  the  last.  Swallows  now 
betray  symptoms  of  their  approaching  departure, 
flying  in  large  flocks,  settling  on  the  ground  in  the 
fields  in  vast  numbers,  whither  the  increasing  chilli- 
ness of  the  air  has  driven  the  flies,  or  clustering  on 
the  tops  of  houses,  or  the  dead  boughs  of  trees, 
making  a  low  universal  sort  of  warble.  The  robin 
renews  his  note,  the  stone-curlew  clamours  at  the 
beginning  of  this  month,  wood-owls  hoot,  hares 
congregate,  and  young  blackbirds  and  thrushes 
may  be  heard  in  copses,  essaying  their  first  powers 
of  song.  The  wood-lark  now  having  abandoned 
its  summer  music,  may  yet  be  heard  uttering  its  fine 
wild  autumnal  note  of  lu-lu,  lu-lu,  £u-lu,  on  the  dis- 
tant uplands  of  our  southern  and  western  counties, 
particularly  Devon  and  Cornwall,  and  amongst  the 
hills  of  South  Wales. 

I  must  not  omit  the  great  variety  of  fungi  which 
flourish  this  month.  These  are  of  every  size,  shade, 
and  hue,  according  to  species  and  situation,  from 
the  slender  filament  of  scarlet  or  yellow  upon  some 
decaying  stump,  to  the  bold,  broad  agaric  of  a  foot 
in  height  and  diameter,  standing  in  the  forest  as  a 
fitting  table  for  King  Oberon.  No  production  of 
nature  but  is  endowed  with  some  portion  of  that 
beauty  so  lavishly  diffused  through  creation;  and 


SEPTEMBER. 


281 


these  humble  and  despised  vegetables,  which  the 
clown  kicks  away  with  his  foot,  will  certainly 
appear  to  an  attentive  eye  not  destitute  of  their 
share.  In  roaming  the  ancient  wilds  of  Sherwood 
Forest  in  the  autumn  of  1827,  I  was  particularly 
struck  with  their  varying  character;  some  broad, 
tabular  and  flecked  with  brown;  some  in  the  shade 
of  trees,  of  a  pearly  whiteness ;  others  of  a  brilliant 
rose-colour;  some  whose  delicate  surfaces  were 
studded  with  dark  embossments,  some  fashioned 
like  a  Chinese  parasol,  others  gibbous  and  gro- 
tesque ;  the  massy  puff-ball,  which,  before  it  be- 
comes dry  has  been  known  to  weigh  several 
pounds;  the  pestilent,  scented,  and  ginger  mush- 
room, for  all  the  world  the  exact  resemblance  of  a 
Simnel-cake.  The  fungi  of  the  fine  dry  summer 
and  autumn  of  1834  were  remarkable  both  for  size 
and  numbers.  Mushrooms  were  brought  to  market 
in  amazing  quantities.  In  Clifton  Grove,  near  Not- 
tingham, I  saw  puff-balls  so  large  that  they  re- 
sembled the  stone  balls  on  the  gateways  of  old 
halls.  I  had  the  curiosity  to  measure  one,  and 
found  it  two  feet  four  inches  in  circumference.  On 
Salisbury  plains  I  saw  an  old  woman  gathering 
what  she  called  horse-mushrooms,  to  sell  for  cat- 
sup. They  grew  in  fairy-rings — or  ver-rings,  as 
they  are  there  called, — and  had  all  the  characters 
of  true  mushrooms,  the  thick  stool,  the  rosy  gills, 
and  the  catsup  odour,  but  were  of  the  size  of  a 
man's  head.  Similar  ones  in  size  and  species  I  saw 
24* 


282  SEPTEMBER. 

growing  plentifully  about  the  Land's-End  in  Corn- 
wall. 


"  Our  Saxon  ancestors,"  says  Verstegan,  "  called 
this  month  Gerst-monath,  for  that  barley  which  that 
month  commonly  yielded  was  called  gerst,  the 
name  of  barley  being  given  unto  it  by  reason  of  the 
drinke  therewith  made,  called  beere,  and  from  beer- 
legh  it  came  to  be  berligh,  and  thence  to  barley. 
So  in  like  manner  beereheym,  to  wit,  the  overarch- 
ing or  covering  of  beer,  came  to  be  called  berham 
and  afterwards  barme,  having  gotten  I  wot  not 
how  many  names  besides." 

Saffron,  used  in  medicine  and  in  dyeing,  con- 
sisting of  the  pointals  of  the  crocus,  is  this  month 
gathered  and  prepared  in  large  quantities,  particu- 
larly at  Saffron  Walden.  Apples  are  gathered,  and 
cider  and  perry  are  made.  Herrings  pay  their 
annual  visit  to  England  in  September,  and  afford  a 
rich  harvest  to  the  inhabitants  of  its  eastern  and 
western  coasts.  Towards  the  end  of  the  month  the 
nuthatch  visits  our  orchards,  particularly  those 
which  abound  with  nut-trees. 

As  this  is  the  time  at  which  many  visit  the  sea- 
coast,  the  following  extract  from  "  Drurnmond's 
First  Steps  to  Botany,"  a  most  excellent  and  inte- 
resting little  work,  may  be  fitly  introduced: — 
"  Perhaps  no  scene,  or  situation,  is  so  intensely 
gratifying  to  the  naturalist  as  the  shore  of  the 
ocean.  The  productions  of  the  latter  element  are 


SEPTEMBER.  283 

innumerable,  and  the  majesty  of  the  mighty  waters 
lends  an  interest  unknown  to  an  inland  landscape. 
The  loneliness  too  of  the  sea-shore  is  much  cheered 
by  the  constant  changes  arising  from  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide,  and  the  undulations  of  the  water's 
surface,  sometimes  rolling  like  mountains,  and 
again  scarcely  murmuring  on  the  beach.  As  you 
gather  there 

Each  flower  of  the  rock  and  each  gem  of  the  billow, 

you  may  feel  with  the  poet,  that  there  are  joys  in 
solitude,  and  that  there  are  pleasures  to  be  found  in 
the  investigation  of  nature  of  the  most  powerful  and 
pleasing  influence. 

There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods  ; 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore  ; 
There  is  society  where  none  intrudes 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar. 

But  nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  a  view 
of  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  during  a  calm,  even 
round  our  own  shores,  but  particularly  in  tropical 
climates,  especially  when  it  consists  alternately  of 
beds  of  sand  and  masses  of  rock.  The  water  is 
frequently  so  clear  and  undisturbed,  that,  at  great 
depths,  the  minutest  objects  are  visible  ;  groves  of 
coral  are  seen  expanding  their  variously-coloured 
clumps,  some  rigid  and  immoveable,  and  others 
waving  gracefully  their  flexile  branches.  Shells  of 
every  form  and  hue  glide  slowly  along  the  stones, 
or  cling  to  the  coral  boughs  like  fruit ;  crabs  and 


284  SEPTEMBER. 

other  marine  animals  pursue  their  prey  in  the 
crannies  of  the  rocks,  and  sea-plants  spread  their 
limber  fronds  in  gay  and  gaudy  irregularity,  while 
the  most  beautiful  fishes  are  on  every  side  sporting 
around. 

The  floor  is  of  sand,  like  the  mountain-drift, 

And  the  pearl-shells  spangle  the  flinty  snow ; 
From  coral  rocks  the  sea-plants  lift 

Their  boughs,  where  the  tides  and  billows  flow  ; 
The  water  is  calm  and  still  below, 

For  the  winds  and  waves  are  absent  there ; 
And  the  sands  are  bright  as  the  stars  that  glow 

In  the  motionless  fields  of  the  upper  air. 
There,  with  its  waving  blade  of  green, 

The  sea-flag  streams  through  the  silent  water, 
And  the  crimson  leaf  of  the  dulse  is  seen 

To  blush  like  a  banner  bathed  in  slaughter  ; 
There  with  a  light  and  easy  motion 

The  fan-coral  sweeps  through  the  clear  deep  sea  ; 
And  the  yellow  and  scarlet  tufts  of  ocean 

Are  bending  like  corn  on  the  upland  lea ; 
And  life  in  rare  and  beautiful  forms 

Is  sporting  amid  those  bowers  of  stone, 
And  is  safe  when  the  wrathful  spirit  of  storms 

Has  made  the  top  of  the  waves  his  own. 
And  when  the  ship  from  his  fury  flies 

Where  the  myriad  voices  of  ocean  roar, 
When  the  wind-god  frowns  in  the  murky  skies, 

And  demons  are  waiting  the  wreck  on  shore, 
Then  far  below  in  the  peaceful  sea 

The  purple  mullet  and  gold-fish  rove, 
Where  the  waters  murmur  tranquilly 

Through  the  bending  twigs  of  the  coral-grove. 

PERCIVAL. 

RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Finishing  corn-harvest  and  thatching  ricks ;  lay- 


SEPTEMBER.  285 

ing  in  winter  fuel,  as  coals,  wood,  etc. ;  ploughing 
and  sowing  wheat  upon  the  fallows,  also  after- 
crops of  tares,  clover,  early  peas,  etc. ;  gathering 
in  orchard-fruit  for  sale,  and  for  cider-making,  and 
gathering  the  hop-harvest,  are  the  chief  employ- 
ments of  this  month.  We  have  spoken  of  the  pic- 
turesque beauty  of  hop-gathering  in  the  last  month  ; 
but  this  month,  in  the  hop  counties,  presents  the 
most  general  scene  of  hop-gathering.  Throughout 
Kent  and  Sussex,  long  groups  are  every  where  to 
be  seen  pulling  down  the  hop-poles  covered  with 
the  bine  in  full  flower,  picking  them  into  the  bins, 
and  conveying  them  away  to  the  drying  kilns.  In 
the  hollows,  and  on  the  slopes  af  the  Kentish  hills, 
the  hop-grounds  with  their  luxuriance  of  dark  green 
hop-vines  hanging  from  the  poles  in  masses  of  pale- 
green  flowers,  their  picturesque  knots  of  gatherers, 
men,  women,  and  children, — all  having  turned  out, 
—their  homely  cottages  peeping  here  and  there, 
and  the  drying-kilns  sending  up,  at  intervals,  their 
wreaths  of  thin  white  smoke,  altogether  form  a 
most  cheering  and  true  English  sight.  The  whole 
country  is  odorous  with  the  aroma  of  hop,  as  it  is 
breathed  forth  from  the  drying-kilns,  and  from 
wagons  piled  with  towering  loads  of  hops  already 
on  their  way  to  the  metropolis.  To  those  who 
meet  for  the  first  time  the  almost  innumerable 
wagon-loads  of  hops  at  this  season,  thronging  the 
roads  from  Sussex  and  Kent  to  London,  and  piled 
up  in  their  huge  pockets  to  an  enormous  height,  it 
is  a  scene  which  excites  astonishment ;  and  does 


286  SEPTEMBER. 

k 

not  fail  to  impress  them  with  a  vivid  idea  of  the 
immense  growth  of  this  vegetable,  and  of  its  vast 
use  in  the  cordial  old  English  beverage — ale,  and 
its  more  modern  congener — porter.  At  this  season, 
too,  not  only  is  the  atmosphere  perfumed  with  hop, 
but  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  dining  and  drawing 
room  too.  Hops  are  the  grand  flavour  of  conversa- 
tion, as  well  as  of  beer.  Gentlemen,  ladies,  clergy- 
men, noblemen,  all  are  growers  of  hops,  and  deeply 
interested  in  the  state  of  the  crop,  and  the  state  of 
the  market. 

Much  work  may  be  found  in  the  garden  in  re- 
moving decayed  plants,  digging,  gathering  seeds, 
sowing  and  planting  for  next  year.  The  gathering 
of  nuts,  acorns,  blackberries,  and  elder-berries,  finds 
many  of  the  poor  employment  and  profit ;  but  it  is 
to  be  regretted  that  vast  quantities  of  hazel-nuts  are 
annually  lost  in  this  kingdom,  through  the  extreme 
jealousy  of  the  country  gentlemen,  who  forbid  the 
poor  to  enter  their  woods  on  account  of  the  game. 


ANGLING. 


Tench  is  not  in  season  ;  bream  is  at  its  best,  but 
must  be  taken  early  or  late  in  the  day,  and  in  gloomy 
windy  weather,  being  the  shyest  offish;  perch  may 
be  caught  till  the  end  of  the  month ;  and  dace  is 
best  caught  from  this  time  till  the  end  of  the  year. 
Baits  as  in  April,  also  a  camel  brown  fly. 


SEPTEMBER.  287 


MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 


ARRIVALS. 

Anser  ferus,  Bean  Goose,  comes  Sept.  goes  May.    Haunts,  Fens  and 

corn-fields. 
Numenius  Arquata,  Sea  Curlew,  comes  Sept.  4,  goes  Feb.  6.   Coast  in 

winter. 

Scolopax  Gallinago,  Snipe,  comes  Sept.  1,  goes  March  6.    Marshes. 
Scolopax  Gallinula,  Snipe  Jack,   comes  Sept.   10,  goes    March    6. 

Marshes  and  runnels. 
Sula  Bassana,  Gannet,  or  Solon   Goose,   comes   Nov.  goes  March. 

Rocky  isles. 
Totanus  ochropus,   Green  Sandpiper,  goes  April.    Sea-shore,  pools, 

and  streams. 

Totanus  fuscus,  Cambridge  Godwit,  goes  April,    Sea-shore. 
Totanus  striata,  Purple  Sandpiper,  goes  April.    Sea-shore. 
Turdus  pilaris,  Fieldfare,  comes  Nov.  goes  March.    Fields  generally. 
Turdus  Iliacus,  Redwing  Thrush,  comes  Nov.  goes  March.    Fields 

generally. 


DEPARTURES. 

Caprimulgus  Europoeus,  Fern  Owl,  comes  May.    Haunts,  Oak  woods. 

Charadrius  Hiaticula,  Ring  Dottrel,  comes  April.     Sea-shore. 

Charadrius  pluvialis.  Green  Plover,  comes  April.  Heaths  in  summer, 
coasts  in  winter. 

Curruca  sylvia,  Whitethroat,  comes  April.    Hedges  generally. 

Curruca  sylviella,  Lesser  Whitethroat,  comes  April.  Hedges  gene- 
rally. 

Curruca  atricapilla,  Blackcap,  comes  April  13.    Gardens. 

Curruca  salicaria,  Sedge  Warbler,  comes  May.  Hedges  in  low 
places. 

Curruca  arundinacea,  Reed  Warbler,  comes  May.  Water-sides, 
marshes. 

Curruca  luscinea,  Nightingale,  comes  April.    Woods  and  copses. 

Curruca  sibillatrix,  Wood  Wren,  comes  April.    Woods,  tree-tops. 

Curruca  hortensis,  Pettychaps,  comes  April.  Shrubberies,  southern 
counties. 


288  SEPTEMBER. 

Curruca  locustella,  Grasshopper   Lark,    comes  April.    Bushes    and 

brakes. 
Emberiza  Schoeniclus,  Reed  Sparrow,  comes  March.    Reedy  fens  and 

streams. 

Hirundo  rustica,  Swallow,  comes  April.    Chimneys. 
Lanius  Collurio,  Red-backed  Shrike,  comes  May.    Fields,  southern 

counties. 
Muscicapa    Grisola,    Spotted    Flycatcher,  comes    May   12.      About 

houses. 

Muscicapa  atricapilla,  Pied  Flycatcher,  comes  April.    Woods. 
Motacilla  flava,  Yellow  Wagtail,  comes  April.    Green  Corn. 
Oidicnemus  Bellonii,  Stone  Curlew,  comes  March.    Stony  uplands. 
Regulus  Trochilus,  Yellow  Wren,  comes  March.     Copses,  thickets. 
Rugulus  Hippolais,  Chiff-chaff,  comes  March.     Copses,  thickets. 
Saxicola    (Enanthe,    Wheatear,    comes    March.      Ploughed    fields, 

heaths. 

Sterna  Hirundo,  Common  Tern,  comes  April.    Sea-shore. 
Sterna  rainuta,  Lesser  Tern,  comes  April.    Sea-shore. 
Sterna  Boysii,  Sandwich  Tern,  comes  April.    Coasts  of  Suffolk  and 

Kent. 

Sterna  Dugalli,  Roseate  Tern,  comes  April.    Scottish  shores. 
Sterna  nigra,  Black  Tern,  comes  April.    Fens,  lakes,  and  rivers. 
Tringa  pugnax,  Ruff,  comes  April.    Fens. 
Turdus  torquatus,  Ring  Ousel,  comes  April.    Mountainous  parts. 

CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  III.  Order  1.     Crocus  serotinus,  Late  Crocus. 
Crocus  nudiflorus,  English  autumnal  Crocus. 
Crocus  sativus,  Garden  Crocus.  10. 
V.  1.    Hedera  Helix  v.  latifolia,  Broad-leaved  Ivy.  10. 

V.  4.    Aralia  spinosa,  Angelica  Tree. 

VI.  1.    Lilium  Carolinianum,  Carolina  Lily.  10. 
Leucojum  autumnale,  Autumnal  Snowflake. 

VI.  3    Colchicum  autumnale,  Common  Meadow  Saffron. 

X.  1.    Arbutus  Unedo,  cum  var.    Strawberry  Tree,  with  varieties. 

XIII.  1.    Goldonia  pubescens,  Loblolly  Bay. 

XIX.  1.    Eupatorium  altissimum,  cum  aliis.    Tall  Eupatorium,  with 

others.  10. 

Chrysocoma  Lynosyris,  German  Goldilocks.  10. 
Liatris  elegans,  Hairy-cupped  Liatris.  10. 
Liatris  pilosa,  Pilose  Liatris.  10. 


SEPTEMBER.  289 

XIX.  2.     Scnccio  luridus,  Dingy  Groundsel. 

Aster  dumosus,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Purple-flowered  Aster,  with  many 

others.  10. 
Solidago  viminea,  cum  mult,  aliis.    Twiggy  Golden-rod,  with  many 

others. 

Chrysanthemum  Indicum,  Indian  Purple  Chrysanthemum.  11. 
XIX.  3.      Helianthus  altissimus,  cum  aliis.      Tall  Sunflower,  with 

others.  10. 

Coreopsis  procera,  Tall  Coreopsis.  10. 
Coreopsis  alternifolia,  Alternate-leaved  Coreopsis.  10. 
XXII.  6.    Smilax  aspera,  Rough  Bindweed. 
XXII.  12.    Cisampelos  smilacina,  Smilax-leaved  Cisampelos.  11. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  I.  Order  1.    Salicornia  radicans,  Creeping  Jointed  Glass-wort. 

Locality,  Muddy  sea-shores. 

Chara  gracilis,  Slender  Shining  Chara.    Ponds  and  boggy  pools. 
III.  1.     Crocus  sativus,  Saffron  Crocus.    Meadows  and  pastures. 

V.  4.   Parnassia  palustris,  Common  Grass  of  Parnassus.   Boggy  places. 

Duration,  10. 

VI.  3.    Colchicum  autumnale,  Common  Meadow  Saffron.     Meadows 
and  pastures.  10. 

VI.  7.    Alisma  repens,  Creeping  Water  Plantain.    Lakes  in   North 

Wales.  10. 

VIII.  2.    Polygonum  Hydropiper,  Biting  Persicaria.    Wet  places. 
Polygonum  minus,  Small  Creeping  Persicaria.     Watery  places. 
X.  1.    Arbutus  Unedo,  Common  Strawberry  Tree.     Lakes  of  Kil- 

larney. 
XIV.  1.    Mentha  acutifolia,  Fragrant  sharp-leaved  Mint.     Banks  of 

rivers. 

Mentha  rubra,  Tall  Red  Mint.    Banks  of  rivers. 
Mentha  Pulegium,  Penny-royal.    Wet  Commons. 
Stachys  Germanica,  Downy  Wound-wort.    Limestone  soil. 
XIX.   1.      Bidens    cernua,    Nodding    Bur-marygold.      Ditches    and 

ponds. 
XIX.  2.    Inula  pulicaria,  Small  Fleabane.    Moist  places. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  INSECTS. 

Chlenius  vestitus.    Locality,  Damp  banks. 
Helophorus  fennicus.    Pools  and  ditches 
25 


290  SEPTEMBER. 

Coccinella  12-punctata,  Twelve-spotted  Lady-bird.  ) 
Coccinella  16-guttata,  Sixteen-spotted  Lady-bird.  ) 
Proscarabaeus  autumnalis.  Margate. 

Acridia  viridissima.   )  .,      , 

...  .  >  Marshes. 

Acridia  verrucivora.  ^ 

Gomphocerus  rufus. 

Blatta  Germanica.    Houses  and  warehouses. 

Colias  Chrysotheme.    Norfolk  ? 

Colias  Edusa,  Clouded  Yellow  Butterfly.    South,  etc. 

Acherontia  Atropos,  Death's-head  Hawk-moth.  )  Gardeng 

Sphinx  Convolvuli,  Convolvulus  Hawk-moth.      $ 

Acherontia  Atropos  (Death's-head  Hawk-moth). 
This  large  and  splendid  lepidopterous  insect  appears 
to  be  spread  throughout  the  country ;  in  some  parts 
sparingly,  in  others  abundantly.  It  has  several  times 
occurred  near  Nottingham :  and,  I  understand,  is  of 
frequent  occurrence  near  Dronfield,  Derbyshire. 

On  the  Continent,  where  the  Death's-head  Hawky 
moth  abounds,  it  has  been  regarded  by  the  super- 
stitious with  dread,  not  only  on  account  of  the  figure 
of  a  death's  head  which  is  marked  on  its  thorax,  but 
also  from  the  plaintive  cry  which  it  makes  on  being 
captured.  Reaumur  has,  I  think,  clearly  shown  that 
this  cry  proceeds  from  the  friction  between  the  palpi 
and  its  long  spiral  tongue.  Bees  are  so  intimidated 
by  this  noise,  that  they  allow  it  to  enter  their  hives, 
and  rob  them  of  their  winter  stores,  without  resistance. 

The  beautiful  Sphinx  Convolvuli  (Convolvulus" 
Hawk-moth)  has  recently  been  captured  in  the 
vicinity  of  Nottingham. 


OCTOBER. 


i 

The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended. 

JEREMIAH  viii.  20. 


OCTOBER  bears  pretty  much  the  same  character 
in  the  fall  of  the  year,  as  April  does  in  the  spring. 
The  beginning  of  April  is  still  wintry,  the  end  may 
often  lay  strong  claims  to  the  name  of  summer ; 
the  commencement  of  October  is  frequently  distin- 
guished by  the  lingering  of  summer-warmth  and 
summer-flowers,  the  end  by  frosts  and  snows.  It 
is  a  month  as  various  as  April — clear  skies  and 
fogs,  drought  and  rain,  sunshine  and  storm,  green- 
ness and  nakedness,  it  has  them  all,  and  often  in  a 
rapid  succession.  In  the  early  part  of  the  month 
the  hardy  yarrow  and  a  few  other  flowers  remain, 
and  the  meadow-saffron  (Colchicum  autumnale)  and 
the  autumnal  crocus  (Crocus  autumnalis)  spring  up 
and  give  a  last  gleam  of  floral  beauty  to  the  year. 
The  grass,  if  the  weather  be  mild,  is  vividly  green, 
and  luxuriant  as  in  spring.  Fine  clear  days  occa- 
sionally come  out,  affording  in  the  perfect  repose  of 
the  landscape,  the  blueness  of  the  waters,  and  the 
strong  shadows  cast  by  the  trees  upon  the  sunny 


292  OCTOBER. 

ground,  the  highest  pictorial  beauty ;  but  they  are 
speedily  past,  and  rains  and  mists  wrap  the  face 
of  the  earth  in  gloom.  Yet  the  glooms  and  ob- 
scurity of  autumnal  fogs,  however  dreary  to  the 
common  eye,  are  not  unwelcome  to  the  lover  of 
Nature.  They  give  an  air  of  wildness  to  the  most 
ordinary  scenery;  but  to  mountains,  to  forests,  to 
solitary  sea-coasts,  they  add  a  sombre  sublimity 
that  at  once  soothes  and  excites  the  imagination ; 
and  even  when  not  pleasant  themselves,  they  minis- 
ter to  our  pleasures  by  turning  the  heart  to  our 
bright  firesides,  to  the  warmth  and  perpetual  sum- 
mer of  home. 

Orchards  are  now  finally  cleared  of  fruit,  at  least 
the  trees,  for  in  the  cider  counties  they  still  lie  in 
large  heaps  in  the  orchards  in  all  their  glory  of  gold 
and  crimson,  and  many  will  lie  there  till  frosty 
nights  set  in ;  the  frost  being  supposed  to  improve 
their  quality  by  increasing  the  quantity  of  saccha- 
rine matter  in  them,  though  they  are  apt  to  become 
decayed  by  too  long  lying,  and  to  injure  the  flavour 
of  the  cider.  Gardens  have  lost  the  chief  of  their 
attractions ;  farmers  are  busy  ploughing,  and  getting 
in  their  wheat.  Swallows  generally  disappear  this 
month. 

WOODS. — The  glory  of  this  month,  however,  is 
the  gorgeous  splendour  of  wood-scenery.  Woods 
have  in  all  ages  vividly  impressed  the  human  mind ; 
they  possess  a  majesty  and  sublimity  which  strike 
and  charm  the  eye.  Their  silence  and  obscurity 
affect  the  imagination  with  a  meditative  awe.  They 


OCTOBER.  293 

soothe  the  spirit  by  their  grateful  seclusion,  and 
delight  it  by  glimpses  of  their  wild  inhabitants,  by 
their  novel  cries,  and  by  odours  and  beautiful  phe- 
nomena peculiar  to  themselves.  This  may  be  more 
particularly  applied  to  our  own  woods,  woods  com- 
paratively reclaimed  ;  but  in  less  populous  and  cul- 
tivated countries  they  possess  a  far  more  wild  and 
gloomy  character.  The  abodes  of  banditti,  of  wild 
beasts  and  deadly  reptiles,  they  truly  merit  the 
epithet  of  "  salvage  woods,"  which  Spenser  has 
bestowed  upon  them.  In  remote  ages  their  fearful 
solitudes  and  ever-brooding  shadows  fostered  super- 
stition and  peopled  them  with  satyrs,  fauns,  dryads, 
hamadryads,  and  innumerable  spirits  of  dubious 
natures.  The  same  cause  consecrated  them  to 
religious  rites ;  it  was  from  the  mighty  and  ancient 
oak  of  Dodona  that  the  earliest  oracles  of  Greece 
were  pronounced.  The  Syrians  had  their  groves 
dedicated  to  Baal,  and  Ashtaroth  the  Queen  of 
Heaven,  and  infected  the  Israelites  with  their  ido- 
latrous customs.  In  the  heart  of  woods  the  Druid 
cut  down  the  bough  of  mistletoe,  and  performed  the 
horrible  ceremonies  of  his  religion.  The  philoso- 
phers of  Greece  resorted  to  groves,  as  schools  the 
most  august  and  befitting  the  delivery  of  their  su- 
blime precepts.  In  the  depths  of  woods  did  ancho- 
rites seek  to  forget  the  world,  and  to  prepare  their 
hearts  for  the  purity  of  heaven.  To  lovers  and 
poets  they  have  ever  been  favourite  haunts  ;  and 
the  poets,  by  making  them  the  scenes  and  subjects 
of  their  most  beautiful  fictions  and  descriptions, 
25* 


294  OCTOBER. 

have  added  to  their  native  charms  a  thousand 
delightful  associations.  Ariosto,  Tasso,  Spenser, 
Shakspeare,  and  Milton,  have  sanctified  them  to 
the  hearts  of  all  generations.  What  a  world  of 
magnificent  creations  comes  swarming  upon  the 
memory  as  we  wander  in  woods !  The  gallant 
knights  and  beautiful  dames,  the  magical  castles 
and  hippogriflfs  of  the  Orlando ;  the  enchanted 
forest,  the  Armida  and  Erminia  of  the  Gerusa- 
lemma  Liherata;  "Fair  Una  with  her  milk-white 
lamb,"  and  all  the  satyrs,  Archimages,  the  fair 
Florimels  and  false  Duessas  of  the  Faery  Queene ; 
Ariel  and  Caliban,  Jaques  and  his  motley  fool  in 
Arden,  the  fairies  of  the  Midsummer-Night's  Dream, 
Oberon,  Titania,  and  that  pleasantest  of  all  mischief- 
makers,  ineffable  Puck, — the  noble  spirits  of  the 
immortal  Comus.  With  such  company,  woods  are 
to  us  any  thing  but  solitudes — they  are  populous 
and  inexhaustible  worlds,  where  creatures  that 
mock  the  grasp  but  not  the  mind,  a  matchless 
phantasmagoria,  flit  before  us ;  alternately  make 
us  merry  with  their  pleasant  follies,  delight  us  with 
their  romantic  grandeur  and  beauty,  and  elevate 
our  hearts  with  their  sublime  sentiments.  What 
wisdom  do  we  learn  in  the  world  that  they  do  not 
teach  us  better?  What  music  do  we  hear  like  that 
which  bursts  from  the  pipes  of  the  universal  Pan, 
or  comes  from  some  viewless  source  with  the 
JEolian  melodies  of  Faery-land  ?  Whatever  woods 
have  been  to  all  ages,  to  all  descriptions  of  superior 
mind,  to  all  the  sages  and  poets  of  the  past  world, 


OCTOBER.  295 

they  are  to  us.  We  have  the  varied  whole  of  their 
sentiments,  feelings,  and  fancies,  bequeathed  as  an 
immortal  legacy,  and  combined  and  concentrated 
for  our  gratification  and  advantage ;  besides  the 
innumerable  pleasures  which  modern  art  has  thrown 
to  the  accumulated  wealth  of  all  antiquity.  Botany 
has  introduced  us  to  a  more  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  names  and  characters,  and  with  something 
also  of  the  physical  economy,  of  both  "  the  trees 
of  the  wood"  and  of  the  smallest  plants  which 
flourish  at  their  feet;  so  that  wherever  we  cast  our 
eyes,  we  behold  matter  for  both  admiration  and 
research. 

What  can  be  more  beautiful  than  trees  ?  their 
lofty  trunks,  august  in  their  simplicity,  asserting  to 
the  most  inexperienced  eye  their  infinite  superiority 
over  the  imitative  pillars  of  man's  pride !  their 
graceful  play  of  wride-spreading  branches  !  and  all 
the  delicate  and  glorious  machinery  of  buds,  leaves, 
flowers,  and  fruit,  that  with  more  than  magical 
effect  burst  forth,  from  naked  and  rigid  twigs,  with 
all  the  rich  and  brilliant,  and  unimaginably  varied 
colours  under  heaven  ;  breathing  delectable  odours, 
pure,  and  fresh,  and  animating ;  pouring  out  spices 
and  medicinal  essences ;  and  making  music,  from 
the  softest  and  the  most  melancholy  undertones  to 
the  full  organ-peal  of  the  tempest.  I  wonder  not 
that  trees  have  commanded  the  admiration  of  men 
in  all  nations  and  periods  of  the  W7orld.  What  is 
the  richest  country  without  trees  ?  What  barren 
and  monotonous  spot  can  they  not  convert  into  a 


296  OCTOBER. 

paradise  1  Xerxes,  in  the  midst  of  his  most  ambi- 
tious enterprise,  stopped  his  vast  army  to  contem- 
plate the  beauty  of  a  tree.  Cicero,  from  the  throng, 
and  exertion,  and  anxiety  of  the  Forum,  was  accus- 
tomed, Pliny  tells  us,  to  steal  forth  to  a  grove  of 
palm-trees,  to  refresh  and  invigorate  his  spirit.  In 
the  Scalpan  Groves,  the  same  author  adds,  Thucy- 
dides  was  supposed  to  have  composed  his  noble 
histories. 

"  The  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  indeed,  abound 
with  expressions  of  admiration  of  trees  and  woods, 
and  with  customs  which  have  originated  in  that 
admiration ;  but  above  all,  as  the  Bible  surpasses, 
in  the  splendour  and  majesty  of  its  poetry,  all 
books  in  the  world,  so  is  its  silver  and  arborescent 
imagery  the  most  bold  and  beautiful.  Beneath  some 
spreading  tree  are  the  ancient  patriarchs  revealed 
to  us  sitting  in  contemplation,  or  receiving  the  visits 
of  angels ;  and  what  a  calm  and  dignified  picture 
of  primeval  life  is  presented  to  our  imagination,  at 
the  mention  of  Deborah,  the  wife  of  Lapidoth, 
judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel,  between  Ramah 
and  Bethel,  in  Mount  Ephraim,  beneath  the  palm- 
tree  of  Deborah !  The  oaks  of  Bashan,  and  the 
cedars  of  Lebanon,  are  but  other  and  better  names 
for  glory  and  power.  The  vine,  the  olive,  and  the 
fig-tree  are  made  imperishable  symbols  of  peace, 
plenty,  and  festivity.  David  in  his  psalms,  Solomon 
in  his  songs  and  Proverbs,  the  prophets  in  the  su- 
blime outpourings  of  their  awful  inspiration,  and 


OCTOBER.  297 

Christ  in  his  parables — those  most  beautiful  and 
perfect  of  all  allegories — luxuriate  in  signs  and 
similes  drawn  from  the  fair  trees  of  the  East. 

In  the  earlier  ages  of  Europe,  kings  were  crowned, 
councils  were  held,  and  justice  dispensed  beneath 
the  shade  of  some  noble  trees.  From  the  shadow 
of  an  oak  was  Christianity  first  proclaimed  in  these 
realms ;  in  a  more  recent  day  of  our  dear  and  noble 
country,  the  willows  of  Pope  and  Johnson,  the  mul- 
berry of  Shakspeare,  and  that  of  Milton,  have  asso- 
ciated those  great  names  with  the  love  of  trees  and 
of  planting.  Many  noble  works  of  our  illustrious 
countrymen  it  would  be  easy  to  mention,  that  have 
been  written,  and  more  than  one  of  our  most  dis- 
tinguished living  authors,  who  delights  to  compose, 
amid  the  inspiring  grace  and  freshness  and  purity  of 
trees.  John  Evelyn  spent  a  considerable  portion  of 
a  valuable  life  in  endeavouring  to  communicate  his 
admiration  of  trees  and  forests ;  and  besides  imme- 
diately effecting  a  great  national  service,  by  turning 
the  attention  of  government  to  the  importance  of 
planting,  has  left  a  fine  monument  of  his  taste  and 
labour.  Well  might  this  venerable  and  enthusiastic 
apostle  of  woods  exclaim :  "  Here  then  is  the  true 
Parnassus,  Castalia  and  the  Muses ;  and  at  every 
call  in  a  grove  of  venerable  oaks,  methinks  I  hear 
the  answer  of  a  hundred  old  Druids,  and  the  bards 
of  our  inspired  ancestors.  In  a  word,  so  charmed 
were  poets  with  those  natural  shades,  that  they 
honoured  temples  with  the  names  of  groves,  though 
they  had  not  a  tree  about  them.  In  walks  and 


298  OCTOBER. 

shades  of  trees  poets  have  composed  verses  which 
have  animated  men  to  heroic  and  glorious  actions. 
Here  orators  have  made  their  panegyrics,  historians 
their  grave  relations ;  and  the  profound  philosophers 
have  loved  to  pass  their  lives  in  repose  and  con- 
templation." 

Who  has  walked  in  woods,  that  has  not  felt  them 
become  to  him  as  superb  temples,  filling  him  with  a 
desire 

To  contemplate  and  worship  Him  whose  mind 

Stirs  in  the  stilly  night-like  solitude, 

Or  breathes  in  whispers,  on  the  gentle  wind, 

Through  vast  cathedral  groves,  and  leaves  a  calm  behind. 

MILLHOUSE. 

And  what  author,  ancient  or  modern,  has  not  ex- 
pressed his  sense  of  their  beauty,  by  employing  them 
as  figures  of  whatever  is  rich,  flourishing,  and 
pleasant  1  In  spring  when  they  are  in  the  delicacy 
of  their  pride,  in  summer  when  they  are  shadowy 
and  aromatic,  in  the  last  splendour  of  autumn,  or 
when  winter  robs  them  of  their  foliage,  but  brings  to 
light  what  summer  has  concealed,  the  underwork 
and  tracery  of  their  branches — in  each  and  all,  are 
trees  and  woods  inspiring  and  delightful. 

It  is  in  this  month,  however,  that  woods  may  be 
pronounced  most  beautiful.  Towards  the  end  of  it, 
what  is  called  the  fading  of  the  leaf,  but  what  might 
more  fitly  be  termed  the  kindling  or  tinting  of  the 
leaf,  presents  a  magnificent  spectacle.  Every  species 
of  tree,  so  beautifully  varied  in  its  general  character 


OCTOBER.  299 

— the  silver-stemmed  and  pensile-branched  birch,  the 
tall  smooth  beech,  the  wide  spreading  oak  and  chest- 
nut, each  developes  its  own  florid  hue  of  orange,  red, 
brown,  or  yellow,  which,  mingling  with  the  green 
of  unchanged  trees,  or  the  darkness  of  the  pine,  pre- 
sents a  tout  ensemble  rich,  glowing,  and  splendid. 
Yet,  fine  as  are  our  woods  at  this  season,  far  are  they 
exceeded  by  the  vast  forests  of  America ;  the  great 
variety  of  trees,  and  the  greater  effect  of  climate, 
conspiring  to  render  them  in  decay  gorgeous  and 
beautiful  beyond  description. 

The  woods !  oh  solemn  are  the  boundless  woods 
Of  the  great  Western  World  in  their  decline. 

HEMANS. 

And  solemn  too  are  our  own.  The  dark  and  glossy 
acorns  lie  scattered  in  profusion  on  the  ground,  the 
richly  coloured  and  veined  horse-chestnuts  glow  in 
the  midst  of  their  rugged  and  spiny  shells,  which 
have  burst  open  by  their  fall  among  the  deep  and 
well-defined  circle  of  "  broad  palmy  leaves,"  that 
seem  to  have  been  shed  at  once.  The  host  of  birds 
enjoy  a  plentiful  feast  of  beech-nuts  in  the  tree-tops ; 
and  the  squirrels  beneath  them,  ruddy  as  the  fallen 
leaves  amongst  which  they  rustle,  and  full  of  life 
and  archness,  are  a  beautiful  sight. 

THE  GREENWOOD. 

The  greenwood  !  the  greenwood  !  what  bosom  but  allows 
The  gladness  of  the  charm  that  dwells  in  thy  pleasant  whisper- 
ing  boughs ! 


300  OCTOBER. 

How  often  in  this  weary  world,  I  pine  and  long  to  flee, 
And  lay  me  down,  as  I  was  wont,  under  the  greenwood-tree ! 

The  greenwood  !  the  greenwood  !  to  the  bold  and  happy  boy, 
Thy  realm  of  shades  is  a  fairy-land  of  wonder  and  of  joy. 
Oh,  for  that  freshness  of  the  heart,  that  pure  and  vivid  thrill, 
As  he  listens  to  the  woodland  cries,  and  wanders  at  his  will ! 

The  youth  delights  in  thy  leafy  gloom,  and  thy  winding  walks  to 

rove, 
When  his  simple  thought  is  snared  and  caught  in  the  subtile  webs 

of  love ; 
Manhood,  with  high   and   restless   hope,   a   spirit   winged  with 

flame, 
Plans  in  thy  bower  his  path  to  power,  to  affluence,  and  fame. 

The  old  man  loves  thee,  when  his  soul  dreams  of  the  world  no 

more, 
But  his  heart  is  full  of  its  gathered  wealth,  and  he  counts  it  orer 

and  o'er; 

When  his  race  is  run,  his  prize  is  won  or  lost,  until  the  bound 
Of  the  world  unknown  is  overthrown,  and  his  master's  hope  is 

crown'd. 

The  greenwood  !  the  greenwood  I  oh,  be  it  mine  to  lie 
In  the  depth  of  thy  mossy  solitude,  when  summer  fills  the  sky  I 
With  pleasant  sound,  and  scents  around,  a  tome  of  ancient  lore, 
And  a  pleasant  friend  with  me  to  bend  and  turn  its  pages  o'er. 

W.  H. 


The  Saxons  called  this  month  Wyn-monath,  wine- 
month,  and  Winter-fulleth. 

The  great  business  of  Nature,  with  respect  to  the 
vegetable  creation,  at  this  season,  is  dissemination. 
Plants,  having  gone  through  the  successive  stages  of 


OCTOBER.  301 

springing,  flowering,  and  seeding,  have,  at  length, 
brought  to  maturity  the  rudiments  of  a  future  pro- 
geny, which  are  now  to  be  committed  to  the  foster- 
ing bosom  of  the  earth.  Seeds  are  scattered  by  the 
hand  of  Nature  in  various  manners.  The  winds 
which  at  this  time  arise,  disperse  far  and  wide  many 
seeds  which  are  curiously  furnished  with  feathers, 
or  wings,  for  this  purpose.  Hence,  plants  with  such 
seeds  are,  of  all  others,  the  most  universally  to  be 
met  with;  as  dandelions,  rag-wort,  thistles,  etc. 
Other  seeds,  by  means  of  hooks,  lay  hold  of  pass- 
ing animals,  and  are  thus  carried  to  distant  places ; 
as  the  bur.  Many  are  contained  in  berries,  which 
are  carried  about  by  birds.  The  seeds  of  some  trees, 
as  the  maple,  sycamore,  etc.  exactly  resemble  the 
wings  of  dragon-flies,  being  placed  in  pairs.  Thus 
carefully  has  Nature  provided  for  the  distribution 
and  propagation  of  plants. 

Trees  generally  lose  their  leaves  in  the  following 
succession: — walnut,  mulberry,  horse-chestnut, syca- 
more, lime,  ash;  then,  after  an  interval,  elm;  then 
beech  and  oak ;  then  apple  and  pear  trees,  sometimes 
not  till  the  end  of  November;  and  lastly,  pollard  oaks 
and  young  beeches,  which  retain  their  withered 
leaves  till  pushed  off  by  the  new  ones  in  spring. 


RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 


The  gathering  and  housing  of  potatoes,  carrots, 
beet-root,  and  Sweedish  turnips,  find  much  employ- 
ment.    There  is  also  considerable  ploughing  done, 
26 


302  OCTOBER. 

and  sowing  of  wheat,  beans,  and  winter-dills. 
Timber-trees  are  planted,  timber  felled,  and  fences, 
gates,  drains,  and  ditches,  put  into  repair  by  neat 
and  industrious  agriculturists.  When  fuel  for  winter 
is  not  already  laid  in,  it  is  now  done.  Gardens  re- 
quire the  removal  of  decaying  leaves  and  plants. 
Plants  in  pots  are  taken  to  shelter;  bulbs  planted,  etc. 

ANGLING. 

All  fresh-water  fish  are  in  season.  Grayling 
makes  good  sport.  This  is  reckoned  the  finest 
month  in  the  year  for  trolling.  Baits  as  in  March. 

MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 


Anas  Crecca,  Teal,  comes  Oct.  20,  goes  March  6.      Haunts,  Streams 

and  lakes. 
Anser  palustris,  Gray  Lagg — Wild  goose,  comes  Oct.  6,  goes  Feb.  10, 

Heathy  Lakes  and  streams. 
Corvus  Comix,  Royston,  or  Hooded  Crow,  comes  Oct.  3,  goes  March 

22.     Downs. 

Curruca  provincialis,  Dartford  Warbler,  goes  Feb.     About  London. 
Falco  ^Esalon,  Merlin,  goes  Feb.    Woods. 
Fodiceps  minor,  Lesser  Guillimot,  goes  Feb.     Sea-shore. 
Scolopax  Rusticola,  Woodcock,  comes  Oct.  Dec.  goes  March.    Woody 

streams. 
Spathulea   clypeata,  Common    Shoveler,   goes   April.      Fresh-water 

lakes. 

DEPARTURES. 

Falco  Subbuteo,  Hobby,  comes  May.     Haunts,  Woods  and  fields. 

Hirundo  urbica,  Martin,  comes  April.    Eaves. 

Hirundo  riparia,  Sand  Martin,  comes  April.    Sandy  Cliifs  neai  water. 


OCTOBER.  303 

Otus  brachyotus,  Short-eared  Owl,  comes  April.  Woods  and  hilly 
countries. 

Ortygometra  crex,  Land  Hail,  comes  May.     Meadows. 

Rallus  aquaticus,  Water  Rail,  comes  April  9.     Sedgy  waters. 

Sylvia  Phoenicurus,  Redstart,  comes  April.     About  old  walls. 

Totanus  Calidris,  Redshank,  goes  Oct.  29,  comes  April  10.  Salt 
marshes. 

Totanus  Hypoleucos,  Common  Sandpiper,  comes  April.  Pebbly  mar- 
gins of  streams. 


CALENDAR  OF  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Class  V.    Order   1.      Sideroxylon    lycoides.      Willow-leaved    Iron- 
wood.  11. 

Plumbago  Europosus,  European  Leadwort. 
XIX.  2.     Artemisia  Japonica,  Japan  Southernwood.  11. 
Aster  salicifolius,  cum  aliis.     Willow-leaved  Aster,  with  others. 
Solidago  laevigata,  Fleshy-leaved  Golden  rod.  11. 
Solidago  lanceolata,  Grass-leaved  Golden  rod. 

SELECT  CALENDAR  OF  BRITISH  BOTANY. 

Class  V.  Order  1.     Hedera  Helix,  Common  Ivy.    Locality,  Rocks, 
trees,  and  ruins. 


NOVEMBER. 


With  clouds  he  covereth  the  light ;  and  commandeth  it  not  to  shine 
by  the  cloud  that  cometh  betwixt. 

JOB  xxxvi.  32. 


"  AUTUMN  is  dark  on  the  mountains ;  gray  mist 
rests  on  the  hills.  The  whirlwind  is  heard  on  the 
heath.  Dark  rolls  the  river  through  the  narrow 
plain.  The  leaves  whirl  round  with  the  wind,  and 
strew  the  grave  of  the  dead."  I  commence  this 
month  with  a  quotation  from  a  bard  who,  more 
than  all  others,  abounds  in  that  wild  and  sombre 
imagery  congenial  to  the  season.  Ossian  is  a  book 
to  be  read  amid  the  gloomy  silence,  or  the  loud 
gusty  winds  of  November.  There  is  an  ancient 
dwelling,  in  a  sylvan  and  out-of-the-world  part  of 
the  country,  which  I  frequent  about  as  often  as 
there  are  months  in  the  year.  In  the  summer 
it  is  surrounded  by  out-of-doors  delights— woods, 
green  fields,  sweet  songs,  and  all  the  pleasantness  of 
flowers,  breezes,  and  sunshine,  which  tempt  me  to 
loiter  among  them :  but  in  the  autumnal  and  wintry 
months,  I  habitually  cast  my  eyes  upon  a  small 


NOVEMBER.  305 

recess,  filled  with  books,  and,  amongst  them,  upon 
Ossian ;  and  if  I  remember  any  hours  of  peculiar 
enjoyment,  I  do  those  thus  occupied.  The  days 
and  feelings  of  my  boyhood  are  at  once  brought 
back  again.  I  connect  the  scenes  and  the  heroes  of 
the  "  Voice  of  Cona"  in  some  mysterious  manner 
with  the  memory  of  those  with  whom  I  was  wont 
to  admire  them ;  and  am  snatched  from  a  world  of 
cold  calculation  and  selfishness,  in  which  we  all 
too  willingly  participate,  to  one  of  glory  and  gene- 
rosity. We  are  often  asked  wherein  consists  the 
peculiar  charm  of  Ossian.  It  is  in  the  graceful 
delicacy  and  refined  affection  of  his  female  charac- 
ters ;  the  reckless  bravery,  lofty  sentiment,  and 
generous  warmth  of  his  warriors,  and  the  wildness 
of  the  scenery  in  which  they  dwell.  We  are 
delighted  to  find  his  lovely  and  noble  beings  on 
their  rude  heaths,  or  in  their  rude  halls,  exhibiting  a 
poetical  refinement  of  mind  far  transcending  the 
tone  of  modern  society,  with  all  the  beautiful  set-off 
of  the  simplicity  of  ancient  manners.  And  then, 
what  a  pathos  is  in  their  sorrows  !  The  harp  of 
Ossian  is  truly  a  "  harp  of  sorrow."  It  breathes 
perpetually  of  melancholy  tenderness.  It  is  the 
voice  of  age  lamenting  over  departed  glory — over 
beauty  and  strength  cut  down  in  their  prime ;  and 
it  comes  to  us  from  the  dimness  of  antiquity,  and 
from  a  land  of  hills  and  woods,  of  mists  and  meteors, 
— from  the  heath  of  mossy  and  gray  stones,  the 
roaring  of  mountain-streams,  the  blasted  tree,  the 
withered  leaves,  and  the  thistle's  beard,  that  flies  on 
26* 


'306  NOVEMBER. 

the  wind  of  autumn.  Am  I  told  that  it  is  merely  a 
pleasant,  modern  fiction?  What  then?  If  so,  it 
is  one  of  the  pleasantest  fictions  that  ever  were 
wrought;  and  the  man  who  made  it,  one  of  the 
happiest  geniuses.  For  years  did  he  toil  to  acquire 
the  art  and  the  name  of  a  poet ;  but  in  vain.  His 
conceptions  were  meagre,  his  style  monotonous  and 
common-place  ;  and  through  the  multitude  of  verses 
which  he  has  left,  we  look  in  vain  for  aught  which 
might  justify  the  manufacture  of  them  :  but,  in  a 
happy  hour,  he  burst  at  once  into  a  most  original 
style  of  poetry — into  a  language  which  shows  not 
symptoms  of  feeling,  but  melts  and  glows  with  it 
into  poetic  imagery;  which  is  not  scattered  sparingly 
and  painfully,  but  with  a  full,  a  free,  and  an  un- 
wearied hand.  If  this  be  true,  it  is  wonderful ;  but 
I  shall  choose  not  to  believe  it  true.  I  shall  choose 
to  think  of  Ossian  as  the  ancient  and  veritable  bard, 
and  Macpherson  as  the  fortunate  fellow  who  found 
his  scattered  lays,  and  who  perhaps  added  links  and 
amendments  (to  use  the  word  in  a  parliamentary 
sense)  of  his  own.  Whatever  be  the  opinion  of 
fickle  fashion,  it  is  a  book  pre-eminently  fitted  for 
the  November  fire-side :  unrivalled  in  grapic  touches 
which  bring  the  character  of  the  season  before  you, 
and  serve  to  touch  the  heart  with  an  unworldly  ten- 
derness,— a  boon  of  no  little  consequence  in  these 
money-getting  and  artificial  days.  We  have  not 
the  Alpine  glooms  and  lonely  majesty  of  Ossian's 
hilly  land ;  but  we  are  now  surrounded  by  precisely 
the  melancholy  images  in  which  he  delights.  We 


NOVEMBER.  307 

are  in  a  month  of  darkness,  storms,  and  mists ;  of 
the  whirling  away  of  the  withered  leaves,  and  the 
introduction  to  complete  winter.  Rain,  hail,  and 
wind  chase  each  other  over  the  fields  and  amongst 
the  woods  in  rapid  alternations.  The  flowers  are 
gone;  the  long  grass  stands  amongst  the  wood- 
land thickets  withered,  bleached  and  sere ;  the  fern 
is  red  and  shrivelled  amongst  the  green  gorse 
and  broom ;  the  plants,  which  waved  their  broad 
white  umbels  to  the  summer  breeze,  like  skeleton- 
trophies  of  death,  rattle  their  dry  and  hollow  kexes 
to  the  autumnal  winds.  The  brooks  are  brim- 
ful ;  the  rivers,  turbid  and  covered  with  masses  of 
foam,  hurry  on  in  angry  strength,  or  pour  their 
waters  over  the  champaign.  Our  very  gardens  are 
sad,  damp,  and  desolate.  Their  floral  splendours  are 
dead ;  naked  stems  and  decaying  leaves  have  taken 
the  place  of  verdure.  The  walks  are  unkempt  and 
uninviting :  and  as  these  summer  friends  of  ours  are 
no  longer  affluent  and  of  flourishing  estate,  we,  of 
course,  desert  them. 

The  country  presents,  in  its  silence  and  gloom,  a 
ghastly  scene  to  those  accustomed  to  towns  arid 
dissipation.  To  them  there  is  something  fright- 
ful in  its  solitude;  yet,  to  the  reflective  mind  it  is, 
and  has  been  at  all  times  grateful.  In  its  sternest 
moods,  it  presents  solemn  thoughts,  and  awakens 
solemn  feelings.  Great  and  philosophic  minds  have 
in  all  ages  borne  but  one  testimony  to  the  charms 
of  its  quietude.  In  its  profound  repose  the  mourner 
seeks  to  indulge  the  passion  of  his  grief;  to  it  the 
projector  of  some  great  work  in  art  or  literature 


308  NOVEMBER. 

flies  to  mature  his  labour,  and,  while  hidden  from 
all  eyes,  to  achieve  that  which  shall  make  his  name 
familiar  to  all  ears  ;  and  to  the  poet,  what  is  more 
affluent  of  imaginative  stimulus  and  precious  sug- 
gestions than  strolls  through  wood-walks,  mountain- 
glens,  and  along  wild  sea-coasts,  at  this  season?  The 
universal  stillness  is  felt  through  the  whole  soul. 
Every  object  is  exaggerated,  and  yet  recommended 
to  the  eye,  through  the  media  of  gloom  and  mist ;  and 
while  the  eye,  unseconded  by  mind,  would  discern 
nothing  but  dreariness,  he  finds  something  congenial 
to  the  loftiest  moods  of  his  spirit,  and  is  often  led 
into  strains  which,  though  solemn,  are  any  thing  but 
sad. 

Fieldfares  and  redwings  will  be  generally  seen 
this  month.  Sometimes  they  quit  their  northern 
regions  as  early  as  October,  if  the  season  be  very 
severe;  but  more  frequently  they  make  their  first 
appearance  here  in  this  month.  If  the  weather  be 
mild,  they  will  be  heard,  as  they  sit  in  flocks  upon 
the  trees,  warbling  in  concert  very  cheerfully  in  the 
same  manner  as  before  their  departure  in  spring. 
Fine  days  will  occasionally  peep  out  so  spring-like, 
that  the  sky-larks  attempt  their  flights,  and  sing 
merrily ;  but,  perhaps,  the  very  next  morning  shows 
a  landscape  of  frost  and  snow. 

I  saw  the  woods  and  fields  at  close  of  day 
A  variegated  show  ;  the  meadows  green, 
Though  faded,  and  the  lands,  where  lately  waved 
The  golden  harvest,  of  a  mellow  brown, 
Upturned  so  lately  by  the  peaceful  share. 
I  saw,  far  off,  the  weedy  fallow  smile 


NOVEMBER. 

With  verdure  not  unprofitable,  grazed 
By  flocks,  fast  feeding1,  and  selecting  each 
His  favourite  herb ;  while  all  the  leafless  groves 
That  skirt  the  horizon  wore  a  sable  hue, 
Scarce  noticed  in  the  kindred  dusk  of  eve. 
To-morrow  brings  a  change,  a  total  change, 
Which  even  now,  though  silently  performed, 
And  slowly,  and  by  most  unfelt,  the  face 
Of  universal  nature  undergoes. 
Fast  falls  the  fleecy  shower  ;  the  downy  flakes 
Descending,  and  with  never-ceasing  lapse 
Softly  alighting  upon  all  below, 
Assimilate  all  objects.     Earth  receives 
Gladly  the  thickening  mantle,  and  the  green 
And  tender  blade,  that  feared  the  chilling  blast, 
Escapes  unhurt  beneath  so  warm  a  veil. 

COWPER. 


The  return  of  winter  is  pleasurable  even  in  its 
severity.  The  first  snow  that  comes  dancing  down 
— the  first  frost  that  rimes  the  hedges,  variegates 
the  windows,  or  shoots  its  fine  long  crystals  across 
the  smallest  puddle  or  the  widest  sheet  of  water, 
bring  with  them  the  remembrance  of  our  boyish 
pleasures,  our  slidings  and  skatings — our  snow- 
ballings and  snow-rolling — our  snow-man  making 
— the  wonders  of  hoar-frosts — of  nightly  snow-drifts 
in  hollow  lanes — of  caves  and  houses,  scooped  in 
the  wintry  heaps  with  much  labour  and  delight ; 
and  of  scampering  over  hedge  and  ditch  on  the 
frozen  snow,  that  "  crunched  beneath  the  tread,"  but 
broke  not. 

The  dark,  wet,  and  wintry  days,  and  the  long 
dismal  nights  of  this  season,  are,  however,  favoura- 


NOVEMBER. 


ble  to  fireside  enjoyments  and  occupations.  Driven 
from  the  fields  and  woods,  where  we  have  found  so 
much  delight,  so  many  objects  of  interest  or  employ- 
ment, we  may  now  sit  within  and  hear  the  storm 
rage  around,  conscious  that  the  fruits  of  the  earth 
are  secured,  and  that,  like  the  bees  in  their  hives, 
we  have  not  let  the  summer  escape,  but  have  laid 
up  stores  of  sweetness  for  the  time  of  darkness  and 
dearth.  In  large  farmhouses,  many  useful  avoca- 
tions may  enliven  the  evening  fireside.  In  some 
districts,  the  men  mend  their  own  clothes  and  shoes ; 
in  others,  various  repairs  of  smaller  implements,  as 
flails,  sieves,  etc.  are  done ;  and  it  is  now  become  a 
laudable  custom  in  many  superior  farms  to  en- 
courage reading,  and  other  means  of  mental  im- 
provement, which  the  continual  engagements  of  a 
rural  labourer  preclude  during  the  summer.  The 
promotion  of  this  spirit  is  highly  to  be  desired ;  no 
part  of  our  working  population  having  been  so 
lamentably  deficient  in  common  knowledge  as  that 
of  farmers'  servants.  Through  the  summer  they 
have  toiled  from  morning  till  night,  and  from  day  to 
day  incessantly;  and  their  only  interval  of  rest, 
Sundays  and  winter  nights,  have  been  lost  in  drow- 
siness. The  cottager  may  usefully,  by  his  winter 
fire,  construct  bee-hives,  nets,  mole-traps,  bird-cages, 
etc. :  with  any  of  these  employments  I  have  more 
sympathy  than  with  the  last,  however. 

Of  all  men  who  pursue  rural  occupations,  the 
bird-catchers,  especially  the  summer  bird-catchers, 
they  who  do  not  capture  birds  when  they  have  con- 


NOVEMBER.  311 

gregated  in  winter,  when  they  have  no  mates  or 
young  ones  to  feel  the  effects  of  their  loss,  and  are 
ready  for  the  table  of  the  epicure, — but  who  take 
only  singing  birds,  and  take  them  too  wherever  and 
whenever  they  can,  without  regard  to  their  having 
young,  which  may  perish  by  their  absence,  or  to 
that  harsh  change,  from  the  full  enjoyment  of 
summer  sunshine  and  pleasures  to  the  captivity  of 
the  cage ; — when  I  see  their  nets  spread  in  the  fields, 
where  linnets,  goldfinches,  etc.  resort  to  the  seeds  of 
grass,  plantain,  sow-thistles,  etc.,  I  wish  them  all 
manner  of  villanous  ill-luck ;  and  I  never  omit  a 
favourable  opportunity  of  deranging  or  destroying 
limed  twigs  when  they  fall  in  my  way. 

There  are  none  of  our  customs  which  more  mark 
our  selfishness  than  that  of  keeping  singing  birds  in 
perpetual  confinement,  making  the  pleasure  of  our 
ears  their  misfortune,  and  that  sweet  gift,  which 
God  has  given  them  wherewith  to  make  themselves 
happy  and  the  country  delightful,  the  curse  of  their 
lives.  If  we  were  contented,  however,  with  taking 
and  rearing  young  ones,  which  never  knew  the 
actual  blessing  of  liberty,  or  of  propagating  them  in 
cages  or  aviaries,  the  evil  would  not  be  so  enormous. 
But  the  practice  of  seizing  singing  birds,  which  have 
always  enjoyed  the  freedom  of  the  earth  and  air,  in 
summer  when  they  are  busy  with  the  pleasant  cares 
of  their  nests  or  young  broods,  and  subjecting  them 
to  a  close  prison,  is  detestable — doubly  detestable  in 
the  case  of  migratory  birds.  They  have  not  merely 
the  common  love  of  liberty,  but  the  instinct  of 


312  NOVEMBER. 

migration  to  struggle  with ;  and  it  may  be  safely 
asserted,  that  out  of  every  ten  nightingales  so 
caught,  nine  pine  away  and  die.  Yet  the  cap- 
ture of  nightingales  is  very  extensively  practised. 
The  bird-catchers  declare  them  to  be  the  most 
easily  taken  of  all  birds ;  and  scarcely  can  one  of 
these  glorious  songsters  alight  in  a  copse  or  a 
thicket,  but  these  kidnappers  are  upon  it.  Some  of 
these  men  assure  me  that  the  female  birds  arrive 
about  ten  days  later  than  the  males,  whose  songs 
give  notice  of  their  retreats,  on  hearing  which  the 
females  alight;  therefore,  when  nightingales  first 
appear,  the  bird-catchers  are  almost  sure  of  taking 
only  male-birds,  which,  being  the  singers,  are  the 
only  ones  they  want.  The  nightingale,  a  bird 
which  God  has  created  to  fly  from  land  to  land  to 
crown  the  pleasantness  of  spring  with  the  most 
delicious  music ;  or  a  lark,  which  he  has  made  to 
soar,  in  the  rapture  of  its  heart,  up  to  Heaven's 
gates, — "cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined"  in  a  nar- 
row cage  by  man,  is  one  of  the  most  melancholy 
objects  on  earth.  Let  those  who  have  hearts  for  it 
keep  them,  and  listen  to  them  with  what  pleasure 
they  may ;  for  my  part,  while  I  am  myself  sensible 
of  the  charms  of  freedom,  and  of  the  delights  of  the 
summer  fields,  I  shall  continue  to  prefer  the  "  wood 
notes  wild"  of  liberty  to  a  captive's  wail. 


DAILY   WAYFARERS. — Of    all    the   vast   class   of 
human  creatures  who  are  doomed  to  diurnal  weari- 


NOVE31BER.  313 

ness — to  know  the  bitterness  of  "  the  labour  that  is 
done  under  the  sun," — there  are  none  that  I  can 
more  feelingly  sympathise  with  than  the  daily  way- 
farers ;  especially  at  this  season  of  shortening  days, 
frequent  storms  and  growing  cold.  I  do  not  mean 
the  wealthy,  the  lazy,  and  luxurious  viatores  that,  in 
carriage,  or  on  steed,  traverse  the  king's  highways, 
in  great  bodily  comfort,  and,  after  a  few  hours' 
career,  alight  in  elegant  homes  or  well-garnished 
inns,  and  stretching  themselves  at  their  ease,  with 
every  requisite  of  viand,  wine,  and  feather-bed  at 
command, 

Think  themselves  great  travellers, 
Invincible  and  bold : 

but  I  mean  all  those  who,  being  of  the  poor,  are 
"  never  to  cease  from  the  land  ;"  and  whom,  whether 
we  be  seated  at  our  table,  circling  our  fires  in  social 
mirth,  or  quietly  laid  in  our  beds,  we  may  be  sure 
are  scattered  in  a  thousand  places  on  our  great  roads, 
be  it  summer  or  winter,  day  or  night,  as  plodding, 
as  full  of  trouble,  as  weary,  and  as  picturesque  as 
ever. 

Poor  honest  souls  !  their  very  misery,  their  age, 
their  poverty,  their  ruggedness, their  stooping  figures, 
and  ragged  array,  make  pleasant  pictures  to  the  eye; 
and  if  not  for  their  suffering  humanity,  yet  for  the 
variety  they  give  to  our  journey  ings,  we  ought  to 
spare  them  a  little  sympathy.  I  must  confess,  that 
when  I  have  been  shut  up  in  a  great  town  for  some 
27 


314  NOVEMBER. 

months,  and  again  issuing  into  the  country,  behold  the 
same  figures,  the  same  groups,  come  streaming  along 
our  principal  roads,  that  we  have  encountered  there 
through  all  the  days  of  our  lives,  and  that  Bewick 
has  depicted  in  his  living  sketches,  I  have  a  most  in- 
ternal satisfaction  in  the  inexhaustible  vagabonds. 

There  is  one  class  of  them  that  I  freely  give  up, 
although  the  rogues  have  a  spice  of  romance  about 
them,  the  vagabonds  par  excellence, — those  clever, 
able,  and  eloquent  fellows,  that  can  lose  a  limb  or 
even  an  eye  at  will ;  sailors  who  never  saw  the  sea ; 
decayed  tradesmen  who  never  had  a  groat  honestly 
acquired ;  men  of  fictitious  miseries,  who  are  most 
at  home  on  the  road  or  in  the  lodging-house,  and 
who  live  upon  the  pity  of  the  simple ;  for  them  I  ask 
TZO  pity. 

Then  there  are  those  little,  nomadic  merchants, 
that  from  every  large  town  diverge  in  all  directions, 
and  penetrate  to  every  village  and  lonely  house  with 
their  wares.  There  is  the  chair-bottomer,  with  his 
great  sheaf  of  rushes  on  his  back,  who,  seated  on 
the  sunny  side  of  the  farm-door,  or  under  the  shade 
of  a  tree,  as  the  season  may  require,  enriches  the 
good  people  with  news  worth  more  than  his  work. 
There  is  the  wandering  milliner,  an  old  woman  of 
the  true  picturesque  school,  short,  broad,  plentiful  in 
her  own  attire  of  coat,  apron,  and  petticoats,  with 
her  strong  staff  in  her  hand,  her  spacious,  weather- 
beaten  face,  and  a  great  cage-like  basket  of  open 
wicker-work  on  her  back,  large  enough  to  hold  her- 
self:— and  beside  these,  sundry  bearers  of  shallow 


NOVEMBER.  315 

baskets  of  tapes,  braces,  laces,  pins,  cotton-balls,  and 
so  forth.  These,  and  occasionally  the  Highland 
drovers,  with  their  plaids  and  dogs,  and  flocks  and 
herds,  bringing  with  them  the  wildness  of  their 
native  moors,  are  all  very  well  in  their  way — they 
look  well ;  but  they  are  the  casual  wayfarers  about 
whom  gathers  the  deepest  interest. 

Of  all  the  melancholy  spectacles  which  every-day 
life  presents,  what  is  more  melancholy  than  the 
marching  of  a  troop  of  recruits  out  of  the  town 
where  they  have  been  raised  ?  You  hear  a  single 
drum  beat,  a  single  fife  play ;  you  see  a  crowd  col- 
lected, and  another  minute  discovers  to  you  some 
twenty  or  thirty  boys  and  men  of  the  lowest  class  in 
their  common  clothes,  with  ribands  in  their  hats, 
and  bundles  in  their  hands,  awkwardly  commencing 
that  march  which  leads  to  destruction.  They  have 
screwed  up  their  resolutions  to  the  point  of  the  ne- 
cessary calmness  of  aspect;  they  have  bid  good- 
b'ye  to  their  friends,  with  whom  they  are  ambitious 
of  leaving  the  reputation  of  having  gone  oft' stoutly; 
some  of  their  sweethearts,  with  red  eyes,  are  hover- 
ing about ;  many  of  their  comrades  are  going  on  a 
little  with  them ;  and,  perhaps,  some  fond  and  heart- 
broken mother  still  clings  tenaciously,  but  dejectedly, 
to  the  side  of  her  son,  who  has  cost  her  nothing  but 
sorrow  since  he  could  run  from  her  door.  They 
proceed  a  mile  or  two ;  the  fife  and  drum  fall  back; 
•the  last  shaking  of  hands  and  shedding  of  tears 
arrives,  and  they  are  led  away  to  their  distant  station. 
The  scene  is  sad  enough ;  but  if  we  look  forward, 


316  NOVEMBER. 

what  is  the  prospect  ?  Loose  lives  at  home,  hard 
marches  and  fare  abroad;  death  in  some  pestilent 
Indian  swamp,  or  in  the  regular  wholesale  carnage 
of  battle. 

Yet,  probably,  some  of  these  self-same  youths 
shall  tread  the  highways  of  England  in  various 
characters  and  stages  of  their  career.  One  shall 
come  upon  you  as  the  deserter.  There  he  marches 
sullenly  along  between  two  files  of  his  fellow-soldiers 
with  shouldered  muskets;  instant  death  his  fate  if  he 
attempt  to  escape ;  disgrace,  corporal  punishment, 
death  itself,  perhaps,  equally  certain,  if  he  do  not. 
He  has  found  a  soldier's  life  a  weary  one.  He  has 
cast  away  his  oath  and  his  service,  and  sought  in 
manifold  disguises,  and  in  many  a  strange  lurking- 
place,  concealment  from  pursuit :  but  he  has  been 
dogged  and  detected ;  and  on  he  goes  with  a  heart 
full  of  sullen  wrath  and  fearful  apprehension. 

Behold  another  and  a  happier !  he  is  marching 
homeward  on  his  furlough.  He  has  fought  battles 
and  seen  foreign  lands  since  he  left  home,  and  he 
now  goes  thither  with  an  honest  vanity  to  boast  of 
his  sights  seen  and  exploits  done ;  and  to  set  on  fire 
a  dozen  young  heads  with  a  luckless  ambition.  Poor 
fellow !  happy  as  he  thinks  himself,  he  is  horribly 
weary  and  way-worn,  and  longs,  with  a  most  earnest 
longing,  for  the  far-off  town. 

A  third  shall  come  home  some  thirty  years  hence, 
the  old  veteran;  the  hard,  gray-headed,  mutilated 
remnant  of  a  man,  with  one  arm,  one  leg,  a  body 
seamed  with  scars,  a  crown  never  the  better  for  the 


NOVEMBER.  317 

blows  it  has  borne,  and  a  pension  of  a  few  shillings 
a-week  to  get  drunk  upon.  He  goes  home  to  dis- 
cover that  death  has  been  as  busy  there  as  in  the 
battle-field,  in  the  Walcheren  morass,  or  the  plague- 
haunted  garrison  ;  and  to  find  it,  even  with  his 
pension,  but  weary  work  waiting  for  the  grave. 

But  alas !  for  the  poor  creatures  I  am  now  bound 
to  sketch.  Had  fortune  but  been  tolerably  moderate 
with  them,  they  would  never  have  gone  ten  miles 
from  the  spot  in  which  they  were  born  ;  but  some 
sudden  distress  arouses  them  from  their  regular 
dream  of  existence,  and  they  start  across  the 
country  to  its  farthest  extremity  with  the  wildness 
of  comets. 

Look  at  that  middle-aged,  old-fashioned  fellow  ! 
Do  you  not  see  the  cause  of  his  journey  at  once  ? 
He  is  a  labourer ;  his  eldest  daughter,  a  girl  of 
seventeen,  is  gone  to  live  in  the  family  of  some  re- 
lation of  the  squire's,  forty  miles  off.  He  has  just 
heard  news  that  has  alarmed  him.  His  wife  and  he 
have  sat  in  speechless  grief  and  consternation  for  a 
space,  till  the  good  woman  cried  out,  "  John,  you 
must  up  and  go  !  you  must  see  Mary.  You  must 
learn  the  whole  truth.  She  was  always  a  good  girl, 
and  we  must  not  have  her  lost."  For  a  moment, 
the  very  idea  of  the  journey,  and  the  encountering 
of  fine  folk,  and  clever  folk,  to  boot,  as  he  wisely 
imagines  all  fine  folk  to  be,  overcomes  him  with  a 
weakness  ;  but  the  thought  of  his  daughter's  danger 
returns  with  double  power;  he  gets  up  with  a  groan, 
and  prepares  for  his  great  journey.  Look  at  his 
27* 


318  NOVEMBER. 

long  drab  coat  of  a  most  antiquated  cut !  See  how 
neatly  it  has  been  brushed!  How  clean  he  is  shaven, 
how  nicely  his  white  cravat  is  tied,  and  with  what 
a  formal  air  he  puts  his  stick  to  the  ground  !  There 
has  been  a  world  of  preparation  to  set  him  out:  not 
even  the  great  trouble  which  rests  upon  his  mind 
can  make  him  forget  that  he  is  in  his  Sunday  clothes; 
and  he  walks  on  his  way  a  creature  of  such  simpli- 
city that  he  seems  far  likelier  to  be  duped  himself 
than  to  prevent  another  being  so. 

Observe  now  this  solitary  woman.  For  ten  years 
she  has  lived  in  the  closest  court  of  the  closest  alley 
of  a  great  manufacturing  town.  Her  husband,  a 
clever  mechanic,  has  been  earning  plenty  of  money, 
and  plenty  of  children  have  grown  around  them. 
The  good  creature,  in  the  abundance  of  her  house- 
hold affairs,  has  been  so  happy  that  she  has  almost 
forgotten  that  there  is  a  world  out  of  her  o\vn  house. 
But  there  has  come  a  change.  Her  husband's  em- 
ployment has  failed,  and  he  has  gone  forth  to  seek 
it  elsewhere.  For  a  time  she  hears  good  news;  he 
sends  her  money  and  hopes  of  prosperity,  though 
in  a  distant  place.  At  length  his  remittances  fail, — 
his  letters  cease ; — she  is  alarmed  ; — she  musters  all 
her  skill  at  penmanship  and  writes,  but  gets  no  re- 
ply. Her  children  want  bread ;  she  is  reduced  to 
the  utmost  distress ;  but,  suddenly  summoning  all 
her  energies,  she  seeks  and  finds  employment,  and 
manages  to  live.  But  of  her  husband  no  tidings ; 
day  and  night  she  lives  in  fear  and  sorrow; — he 
must  be  dead,  or  he  would  certainly  write.  At 


NOVEMBER.  319 

length,  however,  comes  the  intelligence  that  he  has 
chosen  a  paramour,  and  is  expending  upon  her  the 
gains  which  should  support  his  family.  Stung  to  the 
quick,  she  rises  up  in  grief  and  indignation.  She 
finds  some  good  neighbour  to  care  for  her  children 
for  a  few  days,  and  she  departs — alas !  on  a  melan- 
choly expedition !  She  is  utterly  strange  to  the  world 
— no  matter  ;  she  has  little  money — no  matter ;  in 
the  greatness  of  her  vexation  she  defies  all  other 
troubles  and  difficulties.  See  with  what  closeness 
and  self-reservation  she  moves  on !  She  greets  no 
one, — she  shuns  all  greetings  by  the  way,  or,  if  she 
answers  them,  it  is  only  by  a  short,  sharp  nod,  and 
she  involuntarily  quickens  her  pace.  Rest,  food,  she 
seems  not  to  require ;  her  heart  is  filled  with  black 
and  eager  jealousies,  and  she  shrinks  even  from  the 
kindest  eye,  lest  it  look  into  the  secret  of  her  soul. 
Poor,  unhappy  woman  !  her  task  is  a  fruitless  one. 
She  may  find  her  faithless  husband,  and  may  weep, 
and  expostulate,  and  upbraid  ;  but  the  heart  that  is 
once  led  from  its  home  by  strange  charms,  there  is 
faint  hope  of  reclaiming. 

How  far  more  enviable  is  the  woman  that  I  have 
now  in  my  eye.  I  see  her  crossing  the  heath,  a 
little  broad-built  woman,  in  an  old  gray  cloak, 
beneath  which  she  carries  in  her  arms  an  infant ; 
and  a  troop  of  others,  one  scarcely  appearing  older 
than  another,  trot  after  her.  She  has  lost  her  hus- 
band by  death,  and  suddenly  finds  herself  alone,  far 
from  friends.  She  has  spirit  enough  to  scorn  the 
assistance  of  the  parish ;  she  sets  out,  and  trusts  to 


320  NOVEMBER. 

Providence.  Grief  certainly  has  made  but  little 
impression  on  her  countenance;  and  her  children 
know  nothing  of  it.  They  know  not  what  it  means 
to  be  orphans  ;  they  know  not  that  they  are  poor ; 
they  follow  their  slowly-progressing  mother  from 
place  to  place,  like  playful  kids  ;  and  when  she  sits 
down  in  some  solitary  nook,  they  gambol  before 
her.  They  enjoy  the  sun  and  air  ;  they  are  plump 
and  ruddy ;  and  though  they  ask  for  nothing,  their 
looks  beg  for  them,  and  scarcely  a  carriage  passes 
but  money  flies  for  them  out  of  the  window. 

Not  so  with  the  last  being  whom  I  shall  notice. 
This  is  a  widow,  old  and  poor.  For  years  she  has 
lived  alone,  with  not  a  tie  to  the  world  but  her 
anxiety  for  a  prodigal  son,  whose  life  has  long 
threatened  to  prove  her  death.  And  now  that  she 
is  become  thin  and  feeble,  and  expects  no  journey 
except  the  short  one  to  the  neighbouring  church- 
yard, comes  an  epistle  from  her  son,  written  by  a 
stranger-hand,  to  say  that  he  is  dying  in  a  far- 
distant  place,  and  implores  her  pardon  and  blessing. 
Oh,  maternal  love  !  how  strong  art  thou,  even  in 
the  very  weakness  of  nature  and  the  extremity  of 
old  age !  It  is  seventy  miles  off  where  her  son 
now  lies,  but  she  thinks  of  nothing  less  than  going 
to  him.  Not  go  ! — not  try  to  see  him,  and  to  com- 
fort him,  and  to  know  exactly  how  his  mind  is  at 
the  last!  By  the  help  of  God  she  will,  though! — 
and  early  on  the  following  morning,  her  little,  soli- 
tary house  is  shut  up — door  and  window-shutter 
carefully  closed ;  and,  with  her  key  in  her  pocket, 


NOVEMBER.  321 

and  with  her  red  cloak  and  black  bonnet  on,  she 
is  setting  out.  The  neighbours  come  out  in  won- 
dering kindness  to  bid  her  good-b'ye ;  but  there  is 
more  offence  to  her  in  their  remarks  on  her  son 
than  comfort  in  the  expressions  of  their  pity,  and 
she  moves  quietly  away.  And  that  poor  old  crea- 
ture is  bound  on  a  journey  of  seventy  miles  across 
the  country,  and  without  the  expectation  of  an 
hour's  carriage.  She  takes  no  stick  in  her  hand, 
for  she  never  used  one ;  but,  with  her  arms  crossed 
under  her  cloak,  she  proceeds  at  the  same  feeble 
pace  that  she  has  been  accustomed  to  move  about 
her  cottage.  It  seems  impossible  that  she  should 
ever  accomplish  her  undertaking.  My  imagination 
beholds  her  as  she  crosses  a  vast  moor.  On  and 
on  she  goes  with  such  an  almost  imperceptible 
motion,  that  the  very  width  of  the  moor  appears 
itself  a  day's  labour  for  her.  Yet  she  shall  go 
forward,  day  by  day,  and,  unlike  the  deserted  wife, 
she  shuns  no  salutations;  nay,  to  such  accommoda- 
ting persons  as  are  willing  to  slacken  their  speed 
and  lend  a  patient  ear,  she  can  find  many  things  in 
her  mother's  heart  to  say.  Her  troubles,  like  the 
fire-damp,  are  only  dangerous  when  they  are  con- 
fined,— give  them  air,  and  they  will  dilute  them- 
selves till  they  become  almost  innocuous.  Life  has 
long  ceased  to  appear  desirable  in  her  eyes ;  and,  if 
that  her  son  but  find  acceptance  with  God,  it  is  all 
that  she  desires.  Nay,  if  she  be  permitted  to  reach 
him  while  alive,  and  to  know  that  he  departs  with 
"  a  sure  and  joyful  hope,"  she  will  tread  back  her 


322  NOVEMBER.  ' 

weary  way  with  a  comparatively  happy  heart,  and 
sit  down  again,  for  a  little  time,  by  her  cottage-fire 
in  peace  and  thankfulness.  God  be  with  her  ! 

When  to  these  we  add  the  weary  wanderers  the 
world  over; — the  shipwrecked  crew,  making  their 
way  through  some  strange  land  ;  the  solitary  tra- 
vellers in  the  savage  deserts  of  the  earth ;  the 
worn-down  remnants  of  discomfited  armies ;  the 
captive  driven  in  fetters  to  the  distant  mart,  or, 
escaped  from  thraldom,  flying  by  night,  and  lurking 
by  day,  from  the  fury  of  his  pursuers,  filled  with 
fears,  and  faint  with  famine, — we  have  summoned 
up  images  of  earthly  wo  so  immense,  that  we  are 
constrained,  with  a  feeling  of  agonized  energy,  to 
cast  the  care  of  them  upon  Heaven,  and  to  grasp 
eagerly  at  the  only  comfortable  thought,  that  they 
are  all  in  the  hand  of  God. 


The  Anglo-Saxons  termed  this  month,  says  Ver- 
stegan,  Wind-monath ;  to  wit,  wind-month  ;  whereby 
we  may  see  that  our  ancestors  were  made  acquainted 
with  blustering  Boreas :  and  it  was  the  ancient  cus- 
tom for  shipmen  then  to  shroud  themselves  at  home, 
and  to  give  over  seafaring  (notwithstanding  the 
littleness  of  their  used  voyages)  until  blustering 
March  had  bidden  them  well  to  fare.  They  like- 
wise, says  Dr.  Sayers,  called  it  Blot-monath,  or 
blood-month,  on  account  of  the  abundance  of  cattle 
killed  for  the  winter  store  or  for  sacrifices. 

Moles  now  make  their  nests  where  they  lodge 


NOVEMBER.  323 

during  winter,  and  which  are  ready  to  deposit  their 
young  in,  the  following  spring.  Salmon  now  begin 
to  ascend  the  rivers  to  spawn.  Bees  require  to  be 
removed  under  shelter,  and  their  hives  to  be  covered 
with  their  winter  coat ;  pigeons  also  require  feeding. 

Many  wild  creatures  now  retire  to  their  winter 
retreats.  The  frog  sinks  to  the  bottom  of  ponds 
and  ditches,  and  buries  itself  in  the  mud.  The 
lizard,  the  badger,  the  hedgehog,  creep  into  holes 
in  the  earth,  and  remain  torpid  till  spring.  Bats 
get  into  old  barns,  caves,  and  deserted  buildings, 
where,  suspending  themselves  by  the  hind  feet,  and 
wrapping  themselves  in  the  membranes  of  their 
fore  feet,  they  sleep  winter  away,  except  some 
unusual  interval  of  mild  weather  should  awake  and 
call  them  out  for  a  little  while  occasionally.  Squir- 
rels, rats,  and  field-mice  shut  themselves  up  with* 
their  winter  stores  :  and  the  dormouse  betakes  itself 
to  slumber. 

When  the  hedges  are  bare,  numbers  of  old  birds' 
nests  become  visible :  and  when  they  are  near  the 
dogrose,  they  are  found  full  of  the  seeds  of  the  hips ; 
the  field-mice  being  in  the  habit  of  climbing  up  the 
hedges  for  this  fruit,  and  using  the  nests  as  stations 
where  they  may  sit  and  eat. 

RURAL  OCCUPATIONS. 

Threshing  and  wintering  of  cattle  are  resumed. 
Many  operations  of  manuring,  draining,  levelling 


324  NOVEMBER. 

ant-hills  and  other  inequalities,  irrigating,  ploughing, 
and  fencing,  go  on  by  intervals  as  the  weather  per- 
mits. Timber  of  all  kinds,  except  those  of  which 
the  bark  is  used,  is  felled.  Gates,  crates,  flakes, 
etc.  are  made ;  and  fireside  occupations,  making 
and  mending  baskets,  bee-hives,  traps  for  vermin, 
etc.  fill  up  the  long  evenings.  The  business  of  the 
garden  this  month  is  principally  in  preparing  manure, 
making  all  clean  and  neat,  and  defending  plants  from 
coming  frosts. 


ANGLING. 


Trout  not  in  season.  Grayling  excellent.  This 
is  rather  a  rare  fish  in  England.  The  principal 
rivers  for  it  are  those  of  Staffordshire  and  Derby- 
shire, the  Dove,  the  Blithe,  the  Wye,  the  Trent ;  in 
Yorkshire,  some  of  the  tributary  streams  of  the 
Ribble,  the  Erne,  the  Wharf,  the  Derwent,  and  its 
tributary  streams,  particularly  the  Rye,  the  Humber; 
the  Avon  in  Hampshire,  and  its  streams  in  Wiltshire ; 
the  upper  part  of  the  Severn  and  its  streams  in 
North  Wales ;  a  few  in  the  Wye  and  the  Dee,  arid 
many  in  the  Lug  in  Herefordshire. 

Flies,  as  in  February ;  but  the  enjoyments  of  the 
angler,  like  those  of  other  out-of-doors  men,  may 
be  said  to  be  over,  or  to  be  "  few  and  far  between." 
They  may  take  their  post  in  the  warm  ingle,  recount 
the  exploits  of  the  past  year,  and  prepare  their  tackle 
for  the  next. 


NOVEMBER.  325 


MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 


Anas  Penelope,  Widgeon,  comes  Nov.  goes  March.    Haunts,  Lakes 

and  streams. 

Anas  strepera,  Gadwell,  goes  Feb.    Coast  in  hard  winters. 
Bombycilla  garrula,  Silk-tail,  Waxen  Chatterer,  goes  Feb.    About  ivy 

and  hawthorns. 
Charadrius   pluvialis,  Golden    Plover,  comes   Nov.  5,   goes  Feb.  6. 

Heathy  hills,  coast  in  winter. 
Clangula  vulgaris,  Golden-eyed  Pocher,  comes  Nov.  29,  goes  Feb.  10. 

Shore,  and  fresh  waters. 
Columba  (Enas,  Stock  Dove,  comes  Nov.  29,  goes  Feb.    Woods,  caves 

on  sea-shore. 
Nyroca  ferina,  Red-headed  Pocher,  comes  Nov.  19,  goes   March  3. 

Fens. 


DEPARTURES NONE. 

CALENDAR  OP  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 
Class  IV.  Order  2.    Hamamelis  Virginica,  Wych  Hazel. 


LAYS  OF  THE  SEASONS. 

BY  MARY  HOWITT. 

IV. 
WINTER. 

THERE'S  not  a  flower  upon  the  hill, 
There's  not  a  leaf  upon  the  tree ; 
The  summer  bird  hath  left  its  bough, 
Bright  child  of  sunshine,  singing  now 
In  spicy  lands  beyond  the  sea. 

There's  silence  in  the  harvest-field  ; 

And  blackness  in  the  mountain-glen, 
And  cloud  that  will  not  pass  away 
From  the  hill-tops  for  many  a  day  ; 

And  stillness  round  the  homes  of  men. 

The  old  tree  hath  an  older  look ; 

The  lonesome  place  is  yet  more  dreary ; 
They  go  not  now,  the  young  and  old, 
Slow  wandering  on  by  wood  and  wold ; 
The  air  is  damp,  the  winds  are  cold  ; 

And  summer-paths  are  wet  and  weary. 

The  drooping  year  is  in  the  wane, 
No  longer  floats  the  thistle-down  ; 

The  crimson  heath  is  wan  and  sere ; 

The  sedge  hangs  withering  by  the  mere, 
And  the  broad  fern  is  rent  and  brown. 


WINTER.  327 

The  owl  sits  huddling  by  himself, 
The  cold  has  pierced  his  body  thorough ; 

The  patient  cattle  hang  their  head ; 

The  deer  are  'neath  their  winter  shed ; 

The  ruddy  squirrel's  in  his  bed, 

And  each  small  thing  within  its  burrow. 

In  rich  men's  halls  the  fire  is  piled, 

And  ermine  robes  keep  out  the  weather; 
In  poor  men's  huts  the  fire  is  low, 
Through  broken  panes  the  keen  winds  blow, 
And  old  and  young  are  cold  together. 

Oh,  poverty  is  disconsolate ! — 
Its  pains  are  many,  its  foes  are  strong: 

The  rich  man  in  his  jovial  cheer, 

Wishes  'twas  winter  through  the  year ; 

The  poor  man  'mid  his  wants  profound, 

With  all  his  little  children  round, 
Prays  God  that  winter  be  not  long ! 

One  silent  night  hath  pass'd,  and  lo  ! 

How  beautiful  the  earth  is  now  ! 
All  aspect  of  decay  is  gone, 
The  hills  have  put  their  vesture  on, 

And  clothed  is  the  forest  bough. 

Say  not  'tis  an  unlovely  time  ! 

Turn  to  the  wide,  white  waste  thy  view ; 
Turn  to  the  silent  hills  that  rise 
In  their  cold  beauty  to  the  skies  ; 

And  to  those  skies  intensely  blue. 

Silent,  not  sad,  the  scene  appeareth ; 

And  fancy,  like  a  vagrant  breeze, 
Ready  a-wing  for  flight,  doth  go 
To  the  cold  nothern  land  of  snow, 

Beyond  the  icy  Orcades. 


328  WINTER. 

The  land  of  ice,  the  land  of  snow, 

The  land  that  hath  no  summer  flowers, 

Where  never  living  creature  stood  ; 

The  wild,  dim,  polar  solitude  : 

How  different  from  this  land  of  ours  ! 

Walk  now  among  the  forest  trees, — 

Saidst  thou  that  they  were  stripp'd  and  bare  ? 
Each  heavy  bough  is  bending  down 
With  snowy  leaves  and  flowers — the  crown 
Which  Winter  regally  doth  wear. 

'Tis  well — thy  summer  garden  ne'er 

Was  lovelier  with  its  birds  and  flowers, 
Than  is  this  silent  place  of  snow, 
With  feathery  branches  drooping  low, 
Wreathing  around  thee  shadowy  bowers ! 

'Tis  night !     Oh  now  come  forth  to  gaze 
Upon  the  heavens,  intense  and  bright ! 
Look  on  yon  myriad  worlds,  and  say, 
Though  beauty  dwelleth  with  the  day, 
Is  not  God  manifest  by  night  ? 

Thou  that  createdst  all !     Thou  fountain 
Of  our  sun's  light — who  dwellest  far 
From  man,  beyond  the  farthest  star, 
Yet  ever  present ;  who  doth  heed 
Our  spirits  in  their  human  need, 
We  bless  thee,  Father,  that  we  are ! 

We  bless  thee  for  our  inward  life 
For  its  immortal  date  decreeing ; 

For  that  which  comprehendeth  thee, 

A  spark  of  thy  divinity, 

Which  is  the  being  of  our  being  ! 


WINTER.  329 

We  bless  thee  for  this  bounteous  earth ; 

For  its  increase — for  corn  and  wine ; 
For  forest-oaks,  for  mountain-rills, 
For  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills  ; 

We  bless  thee — for  all  good  is  thine  ! 

The  earth  is  thine,  and  it  thou  keepest, 

That  man  may  labour  not  in  vain ; 
Thou  giv'st  the  grass,  the  grain,  the  tree, 
Seed-time  and  harvest  come  from  thee, 

The  early  and  the  latter  rain ! 

The  earth  is  thine — the  summer  earth ; 

Fresh  with  the  dews,  with  sunshine  bright ; 
With  golden  clouds  in  evening  hours, 
With  singing  birds  and  balmy  flowers, 

Creatures  of  beauty  and  delight. 

The  earth  is  thine — the  teeming  earth  ; 

In  the  rich  bounteous  time  of  seed, 
When  man  goes  forth  in  joy  to  reap, 
And  gathers  up  his  garner'd  heap, 

Against  the  time  of  storm  and  need. 

The  earth  is  thine — when  days  are  dim, 

And  leafless  stands  the  stately  tree ; 
When  from  the  north  the  fierce  winds  blow, 
When  falleth  fast  the  mantling  snow ; — 

The  earth  pertaineth  still  to  thee ! 

The  earth  is  thine — thy  creature,  man  ! 

Thine  are  all  worlds,  all  suns  that  shine ; 
Darkness  and  light,  and  life  and  death  ; 
Whate'er  all  space  inhabiteth — 

Creator !  Father !  all  are  thine ! 
28* 


DECEMBER. 


He  saith  to  the  snow,  Be  thou  on  the  earth ;  likewise  to  the  small 
rain,  and  to  the  great  rain  of  his  strength. 

He  scalcth  up  the  hand  of  every  man;  that  all  men  may  know  his 
works. 

The  beasts  go  into  dens  and  remain  in  their  places. 

Out  of  the  south  cometh  the  whirlwind  ;  and  cold  out  of  the  north. 

By  the  breath  of  God  frost  is  given;  and  the  breadth  of  the  waters 
is  straitened. 

JOB  xxxvii.  6—10. 


GAWAIN  DOUGLAS,  the  celebrated  Bishop  of  Dun- 
keld,  has  given  the  following  most  excellent  sketch 
of  Winter ;  which  Warton  has  rendered  from  anti- 
quated Scotch  verse  into  good  modern  English 
prose.  "  The  fern  withered  on  the  miry  fallows; 
the  brown  moors  assumed  a  barren  mossy  hue; 
banks,  sides  of  hills,  and  bottoms  grew  white  and 
bare;  the  cattle  looked  hoary  from  the  dank  weather; 
the  wind  made  the  red  reed  waver  on  the  dike. 
From  the  crags,  and  the  foreheads  of  the  yellow 
rocks,  hung  great  icicles,  in  length  like  a  spear. 
The  soil  was  dusky  and  gray,  bereft  of  flowers, 
herbs,  and  grass.  In  every  hold  and  forest,  the 
woods  were  stripped  of  their  array.  Boreas  blew 
his  bugle-horn  so  loud,  that  the  solitary  deer  with- 
drew to  the  dales;  the  small  birds  flocked  to  the 
I 


DECEMBER.  331 

thick  briars,  shunning  the  tempestuous  blast,  and 
changing  their  loud  notes  to  chirping ;  the  cataracts 
roared,  and  every  linden-tree  whistled  and  brayed 
to  the  sounding  of  the  wind.  The  poor  labourer?, 
wet  and  weary,  draggled  in  the  fen.  The  sheep 
and  shepherds  lurked  under  the  hanging  banks,  or 
wild  broom.  Warm  from  the  chimney-side,  and 
refreshed  with  generous  cheer,  I  stole  to  my  bed 
and  lay  down  to  sleep,  when  I  saw  the  moon  shed 
through  the  window  her  twinkling  glances,  and 
wintry  light;!  heard  the  horned  bird,  the  night- 
owl  ,  shrieking  horribly  with  crooked  bill  from  her 
cavern;  I  heard  the  wild  geese  with  screaming 
cries  fly  over  the  city  through  the  silent  night.  I 
was  soon  lulled  to  sleep,  till  the  cock,  clapping  his 
wings,  crowed  thrice,  and  the  day  peeped.  I 
waked  and  saw  the  moon  disappear,  and  heard 
the  jackdaws  cackle  on  the  roof  of  the  house.  The 
cranes,  prognosticating  tempests,  in  a  firm  phalanx, 
pierced  the  air  with  voices  sounding  like  a  trumpet. 
The  kite,  perched  on  an  old  tree,  fast  by  my 
chamber,  cried  lamentably, — a  sign  of  the  dawn- 
ing day.  I  rose,  and  half  opening  my  window,  per- 
ceived the  morning,  livid,  wan,  and  hoary  ;  the  air 
overwhelmed  with  vapour  and  cloud;  the  ground 
stiff,  gray,  and  rough;  the  branches  rattling;  the 
sides  of  the  hill  looking  black  and  hard  with  driving 
blasts  ;  the  dew-drops  congealed  on  the  stubble  and 
rind  of  trees ;  the  sharp  hailstones,  deadly  cold,  hop- 
ping on  the  thatch  and  the  neighbouring  cause- 
way." 


&32  DECEMBER. 

We  are  now  placed  in  the  midst  of  such  wintry 
scenes  as  this.  Nature  is  stripped  of  all  her  sum- 
mer drapery.  Her  verdure,  her  foliage,  her  flowers 
have  all  vanished.  The  sky  is  filled  with  clouds  and 
gloom,  or  sparkles  only  with  frosty  radiance.  The 
earth  is  spongy  with  wet,  rigid  with  frost,  or  buried 
in  snows.  The  winds  that  in  summer  breathed 
gently  over  nodding  blooms  and  undulating  grass, 
swaying  the  leafy  boughs  with  a  pleasant  murmur, 
and  wafting  perfumes  all  over  the  world,  now  hiss 
like  serpents,  or  howl  like  wild  beasts  of  the  desert ; 
cold,  piercing  and  cruel.  Every  thing  has  drawn  as 
near  as  possible  to  the  centre  of  warmth  and  com- 
fort. The  farmer  has  driven  his  flocks  and  cattle 
into  sheltered  home  inclosures,  where  they  may 
receive  from  his  provident  care  that  food  which  the 
earth  now  denies  them ;  or  into  the  farmyard  itself, 
where  some  honest  Giles  piles  their  cratches  plenti- 
fully with  fodder.  The  labourer  has  fled  from  the 
field  to  the  barn,  and  the  measured  strokes  of 
his  flail  are  heard  daily  from  morn  till  eve.  It 
amazes  us,  as  we  walk  abroad,  to  conceive  where 
can  have  concealed  themselves  the  infinite  variety 
of  creatures  that  sported  through  the  air,  earth,  and 
waters  of  summer.  Birds,  insects,  and  reptiles, 
whither  are  they  all  gone  ?  The  birds  that  filled 
the  air  with  their  music,  the  rich  blackbird,  the 
loud  and  cheerful  thrush,  the  linnet,  lark,  and  gold- 
finch, whither  have  they  crept  ?  The  squirrel  that 
played  his  antics  on  the  forest-tree,  and  all  the 
showy  and  varied  tribes  of  butterflies,  moths,  dra- 


DECEMBER.  333 

gon-flies,  beetles,  wasps,  and  warrior-hornets,  bees, 
and  cockchafers,  whither  have  they  fled  ?  Some,  no 
doubt,  have  lived  out  their  little  term  of  being,  and 
their  bodies,  lately  so  splendid,  active,  and  alive  to 
a  thousand  instincts,  feelings,  and  propensities,  are 
become  part  and  parcel  of  the  dull  and  wintry  soil; 
but  the  greater  portion  have  shrunk  into  the  hollows 
of  trees  and  rocks,  and  into  the  bosom  of  their 
mother  earth  itself,  where,  with  millions  of  seeds 
and  roots,  and  buds,  they  live  in  the  great  treasury 
of  Nature,  ready  at  the  call  of  a  more  auspicious 
season  to  people  the  world  once  more  with  beauty 
and  delight. 

As  in  the  inferior  world  of  creatures,  so  is  it  with 
man.  The  wealthy  have  vacated  their  country 
houses,  and  congregated  in  the  great  Babylon  of 
pleasure  and  dissipation ;  families  are  collected  round 
the  social  hearth,  where  Christmas  brings  his  annual 
store  of  frolic  and  festivities ;  and  the  author,  like  the 
bee,  withdrawn  to  his  hive,  revels  amid  the  sweets 
of  his  summer  gathering.  It  is  amusing  to  imagine 
what  a  host  of  pens  are  at  this  moment  in  motion, 
in  sundry  places  in  this  little  island !  In  splendid 
libraries,  furnished  with  every  bodily  comfort,  and 
every  literary  and  scientific  resource,  where  the 
noble  or  popular  author  fills  the  sheet  which  the 
smile  of  the  bibliopole  and  reader  awaits,  and 
almost  anticipates;  in  naked  and  ghastly  garrets, 
where  the  "  poor-devil-author"  scrawls,  with  num- 
bed fingers  and  a  shivering  frame,  what  will  be 
coldly  received,  and  as  quickly  forgotten  as  himself; 


334  DECEMBER. 

in  pleasent  boudoirs,  at  rose-wood  desks,  where 
lady-fingers  pen  lady-lays ;  in  ten  thousand  nooks 
and  recesses,  the  pile  of  books  is  growing,  under 
which  shelves,  booksellers  and  readers,  shall  groan, 
ere  many  months  elapse.  Another  season  shall 
come  round,  all  these  leaves,  like  those  of  the 
forest,  shall  be  swept  away,  leaving  only  those  of  a 
few  hardy  laurels  untouched.  But  let  no  one  la- 
ment them,  or  think  that  all  this  "  labour  under  the 
sun"  has  been  vain.  Literary  tradesmen  have 
been  indulged  in  speculation ;  critics  have  been  em- 
ployed ;  and  authors  have  enjoyed  the  excitement  of 
hope,  the  enthusiasm  of  composition,  the  glow  of 
fancied  achievement.  And  all  is  not  lost : 

The  following  year  another  race  supplies ; 
They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise. 

The  heavens  present  one  of  the  most  prominent 
and  splendid  beauties  of  winter.  The  long  and  total 
absence  of  the  sun's  light,  and  the  transparent  purity 
of  a  frosty  atmosphere,  give  an  apparent  elevation 
to  the  celestial  concave,  and  rich  depth  and  intensity 
of  azure,  in  which  the  stars  burn  with  resplendent 
beauty;  the  galaxy  stretches  its  albescent  glow 
athwart  the  northern  sky,  and  the  moon  in  her 
monthly  track  sails  amongst  the  glittering  constella- 
tions with  a  more  queenly  grace ;  sometimes  with- 
out the  visitation  of  a  single  cloud,  and,  at  others, 
seeming  to  catch  from  their  wind-winged  speed  an 
accelerated  motion  of  her  own.  It  is  a  spectacle 
of  which  the  contemplative  eye  is  never  weary ; 


DECEMBER.  335 

though  it  is  one,  of  all  others,  which  fills  the  mind 
with  feelings  of  the  immensity  of  the  universe,  of  the 
tremendous  power  of  its  Creator,  and  of  the  insig- 
nificance of  self.     A  breathing  atom,  a  speck,  even, 
upon  the  surface  of  a  world  which  is  itself  a  speck  in 
the  universal  world,  we  send  our  imaginations  forth 
amongst  the  innumerable  orbs,  all  stupendous  in  mag- 
nitude, all  swarming  with  existence,  vainly  striving  to 
reach  the  boundaries  of  space,  till,  astonished  and 
confounded,  it  recoils  from  the  hopeless  task,  aching, 
dazzled,  and  humbled  to  the  dust.     What  a  weary 
sense  attends  the  attempt  of  a  finite  being  to  grasp 
infinity  !  Space  beyond  space  !  space  beyond  space 
still!      There  is  nothing   for  the  mind   to  rest  its 
wearied  wing  upon,  and  it  shrinks  back  into  its  ma- 
terial cell,  in   adoration  and   humility.     Such  are 
the  feelings  and  speculations  which  have  attended 
the  human  spirit  in  all  ages,  in  contemplating  this 
magnificent   spectacle.     David  has   beautifully  ex- 
pressed their  effect  upon  him  ;  and  there  is  a  paper 
in  the  Spectator,  Vol.  viii.  No.  565,  which  forms  an 
admirable  commentary  upon  his  eloquent  exclama- 
tion.    The    awful   vastness   of  the   power   of  the 
Deity,  evinced  in  the  scenes  which  night  reveals, 
is  sure  to  abase  the  pride  of  our  intellect,  and  to 
shake  the  overgrowth  of  our  self-love;    but  these 
influences  are   not  without   their  benefit;  and   the 
beauty  and  beneficence  equally  conspicuous  in  every 
object  of  creation,  whether  a  world  or  an  atom, 
come  to  our  aid,  to  reassure  our  confidence,  and  to 


DECEMBER. 


animate  us  with  the  proud  prospect  of  an  eternity 
of  still  perfecting  and  ennobling  existence. 

But  the  year  draws  to  a  close.  I  see  symptoms 
of  its  speedy  exit.  I  see  holly  and  misletoe  in  the 
market,  in  every  house  that  I  visit,  in  every  window 
that  I  pass,  except  in  those  of  the  Society  of  Friends, 
who,  though  they  like  old  fashions,  pay  little  regard 
to  old  customs,  but  treat  them  as  the  "  beggarly 
elements"  of  worn-out  superstitions.  They  are 
philosophically  right,  but  poetically  wrong.  I  see 
the  apprentice  boys  going  along  the  streets,  from 
house  to  house,  distributing  those  little  annual  re- 
membrances called  Christmas-bills  ;  and  my  imagi- 
nation follows  these  tyroes  in  trade,  who  now  fill 
its  lowest  offices,  and  would  think  more  of  a  slide 
or  a  mince-pie  than  of  all  the  "  wealth  in  Lunnun 
bank,"  through  a  few  more  years,  and  beholds  them 
metamorphosed  into  grave,  important,  and  well-to- 
do  citizens ;  or,  as  it  may  chance  to  them,  shrunk 
into  the  thin,  shrivelled,  and  grasshopper-like  beings 
that  care  and  disappointment  convert  men  into. 
And  this  awakens  in  me  the  consciousness  of  how 
little  we  have  thought  of  man  and  his  toils,  and 
anxieties,  as  from  day  to  day,  and  month  to  month, 
we  have  gone  wandering  over  the  glorious  face  of 
the  earth,  drinking  in  its  peaceful  pleasures ;  and 
yet  what  a  mighty  sum  of  events  has  been  con- 
summated ! — what  a  tide  of  passions  and  affections 
has  flowed — what  lives  and  deaths  has  alternately 
arrived — what  destinies  have  been  fixed  for  ever, 


DECEMBER.  337 

wbiJe  we  have  loitered  on  a  violet-path,  and  watched 
the  passing  splendours  of  the  Seasons.  Once  more 
our  planet  has  completed  one  of  those  journeys  in 
the  heavens  which  perfect  all  the  fruitful  changes  of 
its  peopled  surface,  and  mete  out  the  few  stages  of 
our  existence ;  and  every  day,  every  hour  of  that 
progress  has,  in  all  her  wide  lands,  in  all  her  million 
hearts,  left  traces  that  eternity  shall  behold. 

Yet  if  we  have  not  been  burdened  with  man's 
cares,  we  have  not  forgotten  him,  but  many  a  time 
have  we  thanked  God  for  his  bounties  to  him,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  fellowship  of  our  nature.  If  there 
be  a  scene  to  stir  in  our  souls  all  our  thankfulness 
to  God,  and  all  our  love  for  man,  it  is  that  of  Nature. 
When  we  behold  the  beautiful  progression  of  the 
Seasons — when  we  see  how  leaves  and  flowers 
burst  forth  and  spread  themselves  over  the  earth  by 
myriads  in  spring, — how  summer  and  autumn  fill 
the  world  with  loveliness  and  fragrance,  with  corn 
and  wine, — it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  our  hearts 
"  breathe  perpetual  benedictions,"  to  the  great 
Founder  and  Provider  of  the  world,  and  warm 
with  sympathetic  affection  towards  our  own  race, 
for  whom  he  has  thought  fit  to  prepare  all  this  hap- 
piness. There  is  no  time  in  which  I  feel  these  sen- 
timents more  strongly  than  when  I  behold  the  moon 
rising  over  a  solitary  summer  landscape.  The  re- 
pose of  all  creatures  on  the  earth  makes  more  sen- 
sibly felt  the  incessant  care  of  Him  who  thus  sends 
up  "  his  great  light  to  rule  the  night,"  and  to  shine 
29 


338  DECEMBER. 

softly  and  silently  above  millions  of  sleeping  crea- 
tures, that  take  no  thought  for  themselves. 

Such  are  the  thoughts  which  flow  into  the  spirit 
of  the  solitary  man,  as  he  walks  through  the  pure 
retreats  of  Nature — such  have  been  mine  as  I  have 
gone  on,  from  day  to  day,  building  up  this  "  Book 
of  the  Seasons ;"  and  in  the  spirit  of  thankful  hap- 
piness and  "  goodwill  to  all,"  I  thus  bring  it  to  an 
end. 


The  evergreen  trees  with  their  beautiful  cones, 
such  as  firs  and  pines,  are  now  particularly  ob- 
served and  valued ;  the  different  species  of  ever- 
lasting flowers,  so  pleasing  an  ornament  to  our 
parlours  in  winter,  and  indeed  during  the  whole 
year,  also  attract  our  attention.  The  oak,  the 
beech,  and  the  hornbeam,  in  part  retain  their  leaves, 
while  all  other  trees  are  entirely  denuded.  The 
scarlet  berries  of  the  holly,  and  the  fiery  bunches  of 
Pyracantha  on  its  dark  green,  thorny  sprays,  are 
brightly  conspicuous,  and  the  mosses  are  in  their 
pride. 

December,  says  Verstegan,  had  his  due  appella- 
tion given  him  by  our  ancestors,  in  the  name  of 
Winter -monath  ;  to  wit,  winter-month  :  but  after  the 
Saxons  received  Christianity,  they  then,  out  of  devo- 
tion to  the  birth-time  of  Christ,  termed  it  Heligh- 
monath ;  that  is  to  say,  holy-month.  Sayers  adds, 


DECEMBER.  339 

they  also  called  it  Midwinter-monath,  Guil-erra, 
which  means  the  former  or  first  guil.  Guil,  now 
corrupted,  yule,  was  the  feast  of  Thor,  celebrated 
at  the  winter  solstice,  and  so  called  from  id  or  ol, 
which  signifies  "  all." 

RURAL   OCCUPATIONS. 

Except  in  clear,  frosty  weather,  when  manure 
can  be  carted  out,  all  operations  have  concentrated 
themselves  round  home  :  tending  and  feeding  sheep 
in  their  sheltered  pastures,  young  cattle  and  colts  in 
their  sheds,  and  all  the  collected  family  of  the  farm- 
yard, horses,  cows,  pigs,  poultry ;  cutting  hay, 
chopping  straw;  pulling,  bringing  home,  and  slicing 
turnips  for  them,  and  seeing  that  they  are  well 
cleaned  and  bedded ;  fattening  for  market,  and 
killing  for  store, — find  abundant  employment.  And 
to  all  these  are  to  be  added  the  many  operations 
of  getting  in  stacks,  threshing,  winnowing,  sacking, 
and  carrying  the  corn  to  market. 

The  business  of  the  garden  this  month  consists, 
principally,  in  matting  and  defending  trees  and 
plants  against  the  cold,  and  preparing  the  earth  for 
spring. 


ANGLING. 


They  who  can  angle  at  this  season  deserve  the 
name  of  sportsmen.  The  excellence  of  the  gray- 
ling at  this  time  is,  however,  a  temptation. 


340  DECEMBER. 


CALENDAR  OP  THE  FLOWER-GARDEN. 

Chut  V.  Order  3.    Viburnum  Tinus,  Laurustinus.  2. 
Viburnum  \.fol.  variegat.  Striped-leaved  Laurustinus. 
Viburnum  v.  lucidum,  Shining-leaved  Laurustinus. 
Viburnum  v.  sfriclum,  Upright  Laurustinus. 


MIGRATIONS  OF  BIRDS. 
ARRIVALS. 

Anas  acuta,  Pintailed  Duck,  comes  Dec.  goes  Feb.    Haunt*.  Lakes 

and  shores. 
Anser  Brenta,  Brent  Wildgoosc,  comes  Dec.  18,  goes  P'eb.  3.    Lakes 

and  marshes. 
Anscr  Ery thropus,  Laughing  Goose,  goes  Feb.    Northern  and  western 

coasts. 
Clangula  glacialis,  Long-tailed  Pocher,  comes  Dec.  20,  goes  Jan  14. 

Shores  and  fresh  meres. 

Coccothraustes  vulgaris,  Gross-beak,  goes  Jan.    Rare. 
Colymbus  arcticus,  Black  throated  Diver,  goes  Feb.    Sea-shore. 
Colymbus  septentrionalis,  Red-throated  Diver,  goes  Feb.    Sea-shore. 
Cygnus  ferus,  Wild  Swan,  goes  Feb.    Northern  Lakes,  Trent. 
Kmberiza  nivalis,  Snow-flake,  goes  Jan.    Mountains. 
Mergus  Merganser,  Gray-headed  Goosander,  comes  Dec.  18,  goes  Feb. 

14.    Pools  and  fens. 
Mergus  Serrator,  Orange-breasted  Goosander,  comes  Dec.  23,  goes 

Jan.  20.    Pools  and  fens. 

Mergus  albellus,  White-Nun,  goes  Feb.    Sea-shore. 
Nyroca  Fuligula,  Tufted  Pocher,  comes  Dec.  15,  goes  Jan.  19.   Shores 

and  fresh  meres. 

Nyroca  Marila,  Scaup  Duck,  goes  Feb.    Coast  in  hard  winters. 
Oidemia  nigra,  Black  Duck,  or  Diver,  goes  Feb.    Coast  in  hard  winters. 
Oidemia  fusca,  Velvet  Duck,  goes  Feb.    Sea-shore. 
Somateria  mollissima,  Eider  Duck,  goes  Feb.    Tarn  Island,  North- 
umberland. 

DEPARTURE. 

Squatarola  cinerea.  Gray  Plover,  goes  Dec.  1.  comes  Aug.  26.    Haunt, 
Beach. 


DECEMBER.  341 


ALL  SEASONS  WELCOME. 

Who  docs  not  welcome  Spring's  sweet  gentleness, 
That,  like  a  friend  long  waited  for  in  vain, 
Comes  laughing  in  and  wafts  away  distress, 
Sending  its  joy  through  spirit  and  through  plain ! 
Welcome  is  Summer  in  its  ardent  reign : 
Nor  Autumn  less,  with  his  resplendent  skies, 
And  dropping  fruits,  and  wealth  of  golden  grain, 
And  mists  and  storms,  and  that  last  pomp  of  dyes, 
That  Beauty  o'er  the  woods  flings  ever  as  she  flics. 

And  welcome  art  thou,  melancholy  time, 
That  now  surround'st  my  dwelling — with  the  sound 
Of  winds  that  rush  in  darkness — the  sublime 
Roar  of  drear  woods — hail  that  doth  lightly  bound, 
Or  rains  that  dash,  or  snows  that  spread  the  ground 
With  purity  and  stillness  ; — at  their  call 
Bright  flings  the  fire  its  fuiry  summer  round, 
And  the  lamp  lights  the  volumc-trophicd  wall ; 
Thought  is  once  more  enthroned — the  Spirit  in  her  hall. 

Welcome  !  right  welcome,  feelings  warm  and  rich  ! 
Welcome  !  right  welcome,  yo  rejoicing  crowd 
Of  fancies,  each  unto  its  winter  niche 
That  homeward  flees  from  frost  and  storm-wind  loud. 
Oh !  be  it  mine  amid  your  circle  proud 
To  sit,  as  sits  the  watchman  at  his  ease 
Within  the  beacon-tower — like  him  allowed 
Not  myself  only  with  your  glow  to  please, 
But  spread  your  guiding  beams  o'er  life's  tempestuous  seas. 

519* 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


.  1  1 

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OCT  3    1942 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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